#i need a fucking hair wizard to tell me how to make my hair look even remotely coherent

[cappurrccino]

I have ONE stupid piece of hair right in the middle of my goddamn forehead that insists on being super short and super curly and it is SO fucking annoying bc NONE of the rest of my hair even wants to WAVE properly most of the time and I can't even pull it back bc it's too short to be contained so I'm just. Stuck. with the One Stupid Idiot Curl

[rueclfer]

Can I request a best friends brother touya plssss :)

Ur loser Touya who, canon to your fics, writes in a diary journal is so good and needs a comeback 😭💗

Okay thank you byyyyyeee :P

god i love todosiblings tomfoolery in touya fics!!!! ily anon thank u for loving this loser as much as i do

open up the door // touya todoroki

“Knock knock.” The voice interrupts yours and Fuyumi’s chatter from the other side of her bedroom door.

“What?” Fuyumi calls out, cueing Touya to poke his head through the cracked door, eyes meeting her before your own, in which you quickly darted away. “Can we help you?”

“Yeah, you can actually.” He returns the tone, fully swinging the door open, leaning against the frame. “I hear you losers giggling and shit from all the way down the hall. Don’t you think you two should shut up and go to sleep?”

You look him up and down, eyeing the stretched out flannel pajama pants hanging low on his hips and distressed band tee over his lanky frame. The glossy sheen over his eyes and the state of his hair made it apparent that he had just rolled out of bed, woken up from yours and Fuyumi’s night time antics and gossip.

“It’s barely 12am on a Friday night, Touya.” You cock your eyebrow at him. “Nothing more important to do than to bother us?”

“Tell me, Y/N, what exactly am I interrupting?” He walks into the room, being careful to step over the scattered containers of various beads, rolls of string, and a couple pairs haphazardly throw scissors laying across the floor. “Friendship bracelets? Are you guys 12?” 

You were laying on the floor on your stomach as he approached you and stepped over you with a leg on each side. Touya leans down and looks past your head to see the unfinished bracelet in your hands.

“Whatcha spelling out, huh?” 

“Fuck off.” You huff, slapping his calf to shoo him away.

“Leave us alone” Fuyumi groans. “We’re gonna go to sleep right now, okay?”

“Sleep, don’t sleep, I don’t give a fuck. Just be quiet. Especially you, loudmouth.” He flicks the back of your head before stepping over you towards the door, clicking it behind him.

You and Fuyumi meet each other’s eyes before simultaneously letting out an annoyed sigh.

“Sorry, you know how he is.” Fuyumi huffs. “He’s so annoying sometimes.”

You had a long standing relationship with the Todoroki family. Your friendship with Fuyumi flourished in middle school when you had accidentally snapped her glasses in half during gym class. Luckily, for you two, you were a wizard with duct tape which had not only effectively fixed her frames, but made you two inseparable since. 

“Sometimes?” You scoff, beginning to shove the craft supplies to the side, making room for your floor mattress. “I was seriously planning on marrying into the family one way or another, but you gave me some shit options, Fuy. Introduce me to a cousin or something.

“Settle for him to be with me forever.” She sighs dramatically and shoots you a pout. “If you really loved me, you would.”

Another thing that lingered since you two were kids- the concept of setting you up with her older brother. The idea had always seemed so perfect for her. There you were, someone who got along with the family, the sister she never had, and most importantly, was “good enough” for her brother, who notoriously had a shitty dating history. However, Fuyumi’s fantasy quickly crumbled midway through high school, when Touya suddenly decided that he was too good for anyone- especially his little sister’s best friend.

“Touya’s a fucking prick, Fuy. I really do want to beat the fuck out of him, no joke, and I’m pretty sure the feelings are mutual.”

“Watch it!” She scolds you. “He’s not that bad, or at least not as bad as he used to be.”

“Not as bad? ‘Hey ugly’ is his go-to greeting for me. He acts like my presence is the most inconveniencing thing ever. If we're alone in the same room, he'll avoid me like the plague and then once there's anyone else around, suddenly he wants to annoy me at any given chance.”

“He’s going through a life crisis or something. Be nice.” She warns. “Or else I’ll kick both of your asses. Wake me if you’re up before me, okay? But only if it’s after 10am.” She yawns. “Goodnight.”

“Yeah whatever, g'night." You say and roll your eyes, knowing that you will definitely not be waking her up.

Now with the lights off and you two in your respective beds, all you could do is look up at the glow in the dark stars plastered to the ceiling, and think back on all of your interactions with Touya from the moment you met him to now- from your raging infatuation with him when you first met as children to the growing resentment and annoyance into your late teens.

-

The glaring sunbeam peaking through the curtains hit you right in the eye, effectively waking you up from your deep sleep. Your phone reads 6:54AM. You mentally groaned to yourself before rolling out of your mattress, exiting the dark bedroom with a soft click of the door behind you. On an early Saturday morning like this, the Todoroki household had its rare moments of silent solitude

Padding your way to the bathroom, you were still in a drowsy state, eyes lidded, and the heaviness of a deep sleep weighing on your shoulders. Once the door shuts behind you, you lean against the kitchen sink and rub the sleepiness from your eyes,

"The fuck, Y/N?" The familiar voice snaps you awake. Your vision focuses on the figure standing near the shower. "You pervert, what do you think you're doing?" He exclaims with a growing amused smile.

"Jesus, Touya!" You exclaim, taking a step back against the door. "Ever use a fucking lock before?" You lowly huff, trying to keep your volume down.

"Why would I when no one's ever up this early? Don't you walk around with your eyes open?"

"I just woke up like two seconds ago." You groan. "Why are you just hanging out in the bathroom?"

"Well I was going to shower. Unless you're here to 'beat the fuck out of me?'" He leans against the wall, arms crossed.

"Listening in on our conversation? Who's the pervert now?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Involuntarily, with your loud mouth and all." He takes a step closer, almost closing the gap and leaving just mere inches of space between you two. "Sounds like you don't like me very much, huh? What happened to that little crush in middle school?" He kept his voice low.

"Fizzled out a long time ago when you started thinking you were too cool for everyone." You press your finger against the middle of his chest. "You're full of yourself, stuck up, infuriating to be around, and you have no reason to not like me when we've known each other for damn near a decade. You're such a dick for no reason."

"You done?" His amused smile grew even wider, making the fury in your stomach grow stronger. "Because I don't have to explain shit to you."

You rub your face in your hands in frustration. "You know what you act like? A 13 year old who thinks being mean to his crush makes them like you back." You cross your arms, almost tip-toeing your way closer to his face. "That must be it, huh? Can't navigate your feelings?"

Touya bit the inside of his cheek.

Before he could retaliate with another venom filled comment, someone on the other side of the door was knocking. Had you two been so loud this early in the morning?

"Y/N?" You recognized the groggy voice. "Are you in there? Can I come in?"

You froze and quickly realized how the situation looked- you and Touya almost pressed up against each other in the bathroom. Alone. After you had just told her all about your disdain for her brother the night before.

You locked your eyes with him. He opened his mouth, ready to respond in your place, in which you quickly slammed your hand over his mouth, and the other on his shoulder. You start pushing him back towards the shower.

"Yeah! I'm in here, give me a second!" You called out over your shoulder.

"What are you doing?" He mouths, taking a step into the shower before he could trip over the ledge.

"Shut up." You whisper back, closing the shower curtain. "Stay." You warn.

You took a glance at yourself in the mirror, silently hoping Fuyumi doesn't notice your flushed cheeks.

"Sorry I was getting ready to shower. Was I being too loud?" You open the door to see her sleepy state of lidded eyes and tousled hair.

"No." She yawns. "I got a migraine, I just need my medication."

You step aside for her to dig through the medicine cabinet for a moment, sending subtle glances to the shower every now and then, hoping Touya doesn't decide to make an appearance.

"By the way," She mumbles. "I was serious about last night. Be nice to Touya, okay? You know he kinda has a crush on you."

"What?" You exclaim a bit too loudly, slapping your hand over your mouth.

She shushes you, putting her finger over her mouth. "You'll wake him. He's a light sleeper." She warns. "But yeah, Natsuo read his diary last week and told me. I think I kinda knew though, since he's so emotionally constipated." She softly chuckles, lightly shaking the migraine medication into her palm.

"What the fuck, Fuyumi?" Your mouth hung open. "Diary? You tell me this now?"

"Well I didn't realize how much you disliked him." She smiles. "Just thought you should know. We'll talk more later, though. I'm going back to sleep. Think about it, and have a good shower."

"Okay.. thanks." You mumble, closing the door behind her.

If you really wanted to, you could let yourself feel mortified for Touya and make an agreement to pretend like that conversation didn't just happen, but you could feel the disgusting pride and ego growing larger by the second as you digested this new information.

Touya rips the shower curtain to the side, stepping out of the shower with a new layer of blush dusted over his cheeks and his wide eyes filled with embarrassment.

"Shut up." He huffs, running a hand through his hair.

"Didn't say anything." You shrug, pressing your lips together to suppress a smirk.

"Keep it that way, then."

He begins to make his way towards the door, in which you promptly block with your body.

"Y/N. Move." He demands, one hand on the handle and the other pressed against the door next to your head.

"Guess I got you figured out after all. You write about me in your diary often?" Your let your smirk grow. "You'd have better luck if you were nicer to your crush, don't you think?"

You could see that pompous facade of his crumble by the second with the way he bit down on his lower lip, cheeks growing into a deeper shade of red, and eyes darting away to avoid your own.

"It's a fucking journal. Not a diary. Let me out. I'm going to go smother that fucking brat with his own pillow."

"Why don't we unpack this here, instead?" You lean back onto the door, preventing him from pulling it open. "If you like me so much, why are you such a dick?"

A beat of silence passes as he releases a long sigh.

"I-" He starts, staring down at you with a sheepish expression. "don't mean to be an asshole. I just get nervous, okay?" His voice falters towards the end.

You cock an eyebrow at him. "Nervous? How does that make sense or justify anything?"

"Because I can't think straight whenever you're around. Which is all the fucking time."

You didn't think far enough ahead as to how you could navigate this. You questioned if this could even be considered a confession or where things would go between you two when you eventually let him out of the bathroom.

"We were fine when we were kids, though?"

"I didn't like you when we were kids." He huffs.

"So a few years ago? When you started acting like an ass?"

"I guess." He mutters. "Can you move over now?"

"I give you one chance." You cross your arms.

"Huh?"

"To apologize, confess and ask me out. Properly."

"Right now?" His eyes widened, mouth gaped open.

"Yup, or forever hold your peace and watch me get with one of your cousins or something."

"You'd actually go out with me?" He asks under his breath.

"Ask me and find out." You shrug.

He pressed his lips together, continuing to stare down at you with furrowed brows- of course you stared back in annoyance. You thought that he already had the easy way out, thanks to Fuyumi, so this hesitation only made you more anxious.

A voice in the back of your head had started pounding through the front. It was your 10 year old self. They're making your stomach twist in anticipation. They're making your heart race. They're making your hands clam up. They're hoping he'd do it.

But he wasn't.

"Okay, guess not then. I'm leaving." You suddenly blurt out, turning to grab the handle.

"Wait." He places his hand over the door frame, preventing it from pulling open. "Give me a fucking second okay? I feel like I can barely breathe."

He puts both hands on your shoulder, expelling a long breath of air to the side. You tense at the sudden physical contact, feeling the warmth of the palms of his hands melt into you.

"I'm sorry for being a dick to you. I'm sorry for not knowing how to act around you. I'm not sure I deserve it, but can you... give me a chance?" He spills out through clenched teeth, all in one breath.

His face was still flushed and expression was almost pained. You knew you backed him up in a corner but if he had this crush for a few years, was he ever planning on telling you?

"I know you had a crush on me when we first met as kids, and I know you definitely don't anymore, but if you want to give me a chance then I guess that would be.. cool." He sheepishly says, sucking in the inside of his cheek.

"You guess?" You cock your head to the side.

"You're fucking killing me, Y/N. That's seriously the best I can do at 7am right now." He deadpans. "Yes or no- before I start panicking."

You pause for a moment, taking in the weight of his hands on your shoulder and intense eye contact.

"I'll go out with you."

"Really?" His eyes widen, and grip tightening. "After everything? You will?"

You nod your head, slightly taken off guard by his surprise.

"Cool. Cool. Okay." He takes a step back, bringing his hands back to his side and shoving them in his pajama pants pocket, giving you space to take your exit. "Um. I'll keep you updated on that date then? When I figure it out?" He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck.

"Cool." You say, still standing idly.

"Cool." He responds, pressing his lips together in a tight line

"Don't make it weird, okay?" You huff. "I don't want to tell Fuy yet."

"No weirdness here." He awkwardly smiles, now fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"Okay we're done here." You teasingly roll your eyes. "You're being weird, so I'm leaving. See you in a few hours, loser."

You two exchanged shy smiles and glances before you made your exit, letting out an audible breath of air after shutting the door behind you. Later that morning, after his shower and getting ready for the day, Touya would find a beaded bracelet hanging on his bedroom's door handle, reading "T O U Y A < 3" in which he slipped over his wrist and would glance down at all day, reminding himself not to fuck it up.

[dark-and-kawaii]

bg3 men of your choosing and kinks?

Notes: Yummy!!! I got you dear anon xoxo

⟡ Characters: Halsin - Gale - Zevlor - Haarlep - Raphael - Wyll - Rolan

⟡ Content: NSFW - Kinks - Lots Of Kinks

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Zevlor loves a good creampie. Like, please let this old man cum deep within you!!! It will literally make him go insane, his tail thrashing around behind him as he fills you so full of his seed. Especially if you let me do it after only just meeting. It’s been so long since he’s felt such warmth envelop his cock. Gods, and when he sees the way his white milky substance leaks out of you afterwards… it’s enough to keep him hard and wanting to go at it again. Maybe it’s part of the breeding kink he has, the dire need- of wanting a family to call his own. And you just look so pretty like this- with your legs spread and his cum spilling out.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Haarlep is an incubus, a demon- a chaotic being so of course dacryphilia. Whether you’re crying from his cock stretching you or crying from the way this creature overstimulates you- he relishes in it. Haarlep adores taunting you, always adding a hint of mockery to his coos, “Awh my little Dove, does it hurt?” Before leaning down to lick away the tears running down that pretty face of yours he loves so much. “Or is it simply too much for your mortal body to endure?” As he lets out a wicked laugh, flashing you his infamous smirk.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Rolan not only enjoys overstimulating you, but also craves being overstimulated himself. This grumpy tiefling wizard has more depth than meets the eye. He’s so pent up from studying and perfecting new spells that when he finally gets his hands on you he’s using your body as a means of release. He unleashes all his frustrations on your tight little fuck hole, pounding you relentlessly with his cock. Bullying that body of yours until you’re nothing more than a babbling mess with your tongue lolled out, until his body gives up on him, collapsing on top of you, gasping for breath. The slightest touch sending his body into shock.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Raphael is a cocky bastard, and everyone knows this. Gets off on denying you your orgasm. Loves being in control of your body, mind, and soul- the devil will wait until you’re begging for him to give you your release- begging for his cock acknowledging that only he can bring you such intense pleasure. Telling him that no one- nor anything matters, only him. Once you’ve pleaded enough, he’ll express how satisfied he is with your obedience and will hint at granting you that long awaited release.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Wyll adores praising you, worshipping you in your intimate moments. He genuinely worshiped every aspect of you, even finding all your imperfections incredibly beautiful. Especially if you have a scar, no matter how small or large, he’ll lovingly kiss along it. And he takes such delight in receiving the same level of adoration from you, as you worship his cock, the very cock that causes your toes to curl and your body to writhe beneath him.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Listen, Halsin sometimes involuntarily shifts into a bear, and he always apologizes for it. But if you accept him for who he truly is, Gods he’ll be utterly smitten with you. As things start to get a bit more steamy his body begins to glow as he transforms into his bear shape. But, if you playfully giggle at him and start to run, enticing him to chase you by wiggling your finger, oh yes, it will not only arouse him further to chase you, but also show him you’re open to some unconventional foreplay. Being a bear he’ll eventually catch up to you and pounce on you as gently as he can. It’s so endearing to him how you softly plead, “oh no~ plllleeeease~ someone help~” as your fingers run through his fur.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Gale is so cute, he just absolutely craves the sensation of your fingers tugging at his hair while you ride his face. He always smiles while probing you with his tongue when he feels your nails digging into his scalp as his stubble tickles between your thighs. And when it comes to your hair, well you best believe this man takes joy in giving a gentle tug here and there. Not too rough, but enough to crane your neck back so that he can lock eyes with you before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

[citrinae]

forgive me, for i love being bad for you.

sanji x reader (ft. platonic!zoro)

summary; everyone agrees that you and roronoa zoro are like two peas in a pod: cool, unbothered, hitting pubs on the regular. everyone, except your boyfriend sanji—who’d try anything to distract you from your visibly chaotic lifestyle. even visiting a potion shop. or: sanji needs to get out of his head in four acts. 

contents; angsty vibes, lowkey love triangle, miscommunication™, abandonment issues, drinking, sex pollen, a little dubcon tbh, piv, oral sex (both receiving), facesitting, multiple orgasms, creampie, college/modern!AU, witch!sanji, jealous!sanji, afab!reader, wc: 7.3k (wheezes), mdni. spooky carnival is still in town, go catch it if you’re in for a bad time.

masterlist.

i. 

Zoro sets his glass back on the table with a forceful clink. There’s liquor rolling to the corner of his lips. 

“I still don’t get it,” annoyance hangs from his voice as he speaks. “How the fuck you put up with him?”

Your reflection looks back at you from the amber in your glass. 

“He’s sweet and he cooks for me,” you mean it. Despite Zoro’s lack of trust in your newfound romance, slightly taking to repulse, Sanji has been nothing but a dream to you. Resting his cheek on yours as you were watching some movie you borrowed for the night, swinging hands as he took you grocery shopping. Everything about him buzzes with the type of comfortable affection one meets in magazines, or in Christmas commercials, and you’re sure to fall harder for him by the day. “Have you taken the time to cook for someone you dated?”

“Yeah?” Zoro washes the accusation away with another sip. “You into cooks?”

“Apparently.”

“‘s he a good cook?”

A smile, prideful. “Nothing but a wizard in the kitchen.”

“Christ, you’re even starting to sound like him,” he teases further. “Putting random words together and expecting to make sense.”

“He’s a good cook, Zoro,” you tell him again. 

There’s a pause. 

“No kidding.”

At a loss of what to say, you clumsily try to fill the silence.

“Yeah.” 

“As long as you like him or whatever,” defeated, waving his hand. “Just keep him outta my sight, will you?”

“Deal,” you say, downing your drink as you do. Bitterness lingers on the roof of your mouth, throat burned and numbed out. Suddenly your mind wanders somewhere else. “Care for another round?”

Zoro’s smirk is sly, devilish. “Now that’s more like my language.”

So you get yourselves a second refill that turns into a third, and a forth, until there’s no more use to bother about keeping count. Your surroundings seem to start whirling for a second. You close your eyes, then open them. And everything gets back into place.

On the day you met him, somewhere around campus, basking in the sun like a stray cat on trim lawn, you and Zoro hit off immediately. Scruffy hair, bomber jackets, eyes looking like he’s about to fall asleep any minute, Zoro is the type to never dwell on things for longer they’re worth. Always a guy of instinct, speaking truths others might opt to stay away from. On the other hand you have a knack for chaos he easily complements, so for over a year now he’s been a good and loyal friend to you, your time together something neither of you would regret or give up on.

He’s the one who introduced you to Sanji. Now it’s clearer to you that Sanji had most probably asked him to. Neither of them expected it when you agreed to go out with him, “It’s just a fucking date, chill out. Free meal you know?”; and to your own surprise, your heart skipped a good beat when you saw him that night.

Sanji. Annoying, perverted, absolutely fucking delusional Sanji, lighting up a cigarette in front of his car. Light fell nicely on his rings as he kept a hand around a flower bouquet—the pretentious kind, with a wrapper and ribbon and all. Red button-up, black jeans, coat. Heart-warming smile. 

Everything about the scene felt like something taken from those really sugary rom-coms you and Zoro make fun of when drunk. Yet somehow you admired Sanji for putting in the effort. His hand quivered on the door handle, “You look sensational, my dear.” Adjusting your seat belt, you told him that he didn’t look so bad himself, and by the pink crossing his face as you did, you deduced he might not be used to having flattery thrown his way. 

At dinner he told you he was raised in a small restaurant down east, and that they sold soy wax candles and herbs right next door. Wiping up your mouth with a handkerchief, you tried to come up with a quip around it, “And you stocked healing crystals and runes as well, right?” But then he just propped his hand in a palm, a wide smile blooming on his face that made you unsure whether he was playing along with the narrative or simply felt happy to talk about his past. “Sometimes we did, yeah. But we were more into the culinary side of things.”

When, a couple days later, you told Zoro that you and Sanji had spent the night together, he didn’t hesitate to let you know that he thought it a bad idea. He warned that Sanji was weird—not in the sense that he had a wandering eye or spent a rent-worth on cigarettes. He was simply weird. Fingers drumming on wood, “Caught him mustering some nonsense crap to a jar once. Like he was enchanting it or something.” Soon you were reliving the conversation you had on your first date. “You mean he’s, like, Sabrina the Teenage Witch?” Zoro didn’t catch it. “Who?” he said, and you waved him off. “Nevermind.”

The sneer he wore back then was similar to the one he makes now, seeing the blue light of your phone fill the room with a notification. 

“It’s him,” you say, fingers instinctively hovering to your lock screen. Neither can you help looking at the hour displayed in blinding white: 01:51 A.M. 

Zoro keeps himself from rolling his eyes. “Tell him I’m bringing you to your dorm.”

You text; the reply comes in a beat. 

“He asks if you even know where my dorm is.”

“Of course I—” Zoro clicks his tongue. Then he snatches the phone from your hands and presses ‘record’. “Of course I know where to go you jackass,” he snarls, throat pulsing. 

Taking your phone back, you check the message popping in not long after. “He says he’s coming over.”

“Fine then. Whatever.” It’s low. He sounds irritated. “Let’s pay and we’ll wait for your princess outside.”

And that’s exactly what you do; take care of the bill, grab your jackets and throw yourselves out. Feeling the crisp air on your cheeks, you realise you’re so much drunker than you’ve felt inside. You’re light, feathery, persistently on the verge of being blown out. Concrete flounders around you and you have to put in some additional effort to maintain your balance. Time becomes harder for you to register or something Zoro has just said made you cackle for too long because here is Sanji, your sweet boyfriend Sanji, parking his car not too far away from your forms. You can tell he put on himself the first things he saw in the wardrobe. His hair is slightly disordered, his step heavy as he rushes to your direction. 

“Evening Angel,” Sanji chirps, pulling you into a hug, and you cannot help but dig your nose into the soft fabric of his hoodie, closing your eyes, glad to finally have something to lean your weight onto. His tone drops when he looks at Zoro. “Mosshead.”

Zoro’s hands are sunk into his pockets. “Told you I got everything under control.”

“Pardon me if I didn’t believe you.” Sanji is sardonic. “Looking at the state of this slump, seems like I was right not to.”

“Not my idea to come here, bitch,” Zoro drones. His breath fogs the air as he speaks. “Next time get your head outta your ass and listen to people before running your mouth.”

Some of Sanji’s cologne still hangs from the soft fabric. “This was the only place that allowed us to play cards,” you say against his chest.

“Aha,” he flattens his hand across your back. “At least tell me you played for money and bled this loser dry. Tomorrow will get yourself something pretty with stupid mosshead pocket change.”

“You done talking?” Zoro says through gritted teeth. 

“Yeah,” Sanji’s lips press into a thin line. He’s slowly urging you towards the car. “We’ll be off in a beat.”

“We didn’t play for money,” you tilt your head to look at him, trying to match his steps as you distance yourselves from the pub. 

“What a pity.” Between wry and affectionate. 

You raise a loose fist in the air. “Till the next one, Zoro!”

“See ya daredevil,” Zoro shifts his weight from one leg to another. “Tuck your princess in and give him a sweet goodnight’s kiss, yeah?”

“Fuck you,” Sanji heaves, closes the door behind you. 

On the way to your dorm, he doesn’t ask about how many you had or lecture about being alone—with Zoro—late at night. Why would he? He’s aware this is a part of you, and he’d lie if he said he doesn’t melt watching the glimmer in your eye and your lips curling into a wicked smirk each time you tell him how much fun you had. Though he does worry about you, sometimes, when you willingly throw yourself in all kinds of dangerous shenanigans. Seeing your head slipping down the backrest, silently Sanji casts a spell on your eyelids to make sure you sleep unbothered until tomorrow morning. Tucks some strands of hair behind your ear, yet his eyes are still fixed on the road, and his hands are both rested on the steering wheel. 

Normally, he wouldn’t have been so exhibited with his magic had you been awake. But for now he takes the liberty to carry himself as if he were alone or in the company of the shitty bunch at the Baratie that taught him the craft to begin with. Foliage and plains and cottages move remotely in his wingspan while he continues to think of you. Your smile, your laughter, the nonchalant way you coil your arms around his own to show you around the places that you have so many stories to tell about. To him you are a bundle of new experiences and joy, something pleasant and airy he wishes to emanate himself someday. Always honest, always so easy to approach. Dandelion seeds whirling loosely in the wind. 

But the one thing he cannot seem to take his mind from is that having a bent for partying also means having a bent for Zoro. 

Lazy, shabby, perpetually absent-minded Zoro. 

His hands tighten on the steering wheel. 

Sanji has never really liked the guy, for reasons he doesn’t have the time or energy to list. Tolerance is perhaps too much to describe the compromise he’s willing to take; but he attempts it, for your sake. Because no matter how he tries looking at things Zoro adds something to this life of yours he certainly doesn’t have, or doesn’t know how to make up for. No matter how well you fit in his arms, early in the morning with sleep still heavy on your lashes, throaty voice narrating a dream so bizarre it plucks a laughter from his lips, the nights will always be reserved to someone he wouldn’t even bother to understand. Because he doesn’t want to. 

Window rolls down; he lights up a cigarette. 

Moments pass. His car stops by a pair of victorian-esque gates he doesn’t take long to recognise. He carries you on his back all the way to your dorm room, putting to sleep everyone he stumbles upon as he does; he isn’t supposed to be here, and certainly you aren’t supposed to return this late at night. He’s thankful you chose to sleep in the bottom bed. With this thought in mind he arranges your pillow and places you under the covers, slowly, gently almost like you were made of glass. From his tote bag he picks out a flask and a piece of paper he scribbles on: “for your hangover—sanji <3” 

ii.

The sun bleeds through stained glass in dazzling shades of pink and blue and yellow. Wind chimes, cluttered shelves. Dusted books. The air is thick with the smell of wood and incense. Sanji picks at the fingers that he keeps tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. He isn’t allowed to smoke in here, but fuck does he need a drag. Light catches across the variety of bottles and jars lined up in front of him, all displayed in eye-catching colours and labelled in alphabetical order. 

Would I? He tries his best not to pick up the light blue piece lingering a little too at hand not to be a work of fate. Should I? Sanji kisses his teeth; he takes the thing into his palm. 

There’s a piece of paper attached by lace ribbon. Writing is dainty, yet small and hardly intelligible.

Truth shows itself in wicked colours;

betrayal, freedom, promise.

For they who shall drink this wicked brew

take a night in their beloved’s embrace.

Is their bond seen pure and true,

the Garden sees no place for others.

Like the first lovers on Earth— 

runaways from Eden, they shall be.

Sanji takes a deep breath. Flips the flask on all sides, reading and rereading, biting his inner cheek. It’s not like he doesn’t trust you. He does, with all his heart. And yet he cannot help but shamelessly wonder: if Zoro hadn’t introduced you, would you and him have ended up together? Does he stand in the way of something which is meant to be? “I’m pathetic, fuck.”

He tastes blood. 

Talking to you about this is out of the question, since that would mean admitting Zoro is a better match for you. Plus, honesty is one of the things he admires about you. He’s sure you wouldn’t cheat. To bring this up would only lead to conflict and the sort of disappointment he’d rather choke to death than see reflected in your eyes. 

“This shit is ridiculous.”

The flask makes a frail sound as Sanji throws it in his basket. Stomping the floor with his foot, a cold sweat bobbing at his nape, at checkout he’s greeted by a gorgeous woman dressed in a velvet dress and speaking with a faint voice he doesn’t care enough to pay attention to. There’s a black cat sleeping on a shelf behind her. 

“Is this everything you needed?” she asks, carefully placing the goods in a paper pag. 

Sanji drops some cash on the counter and leaves without saying a thing to her. 

iii. 

“What do you think, my dear?” Sanji asks you on the other side of the table. The potion he bought a week ago forms a bump inside the pocket of his dress pants. 

You want to be sure of your answer, so you take another forkful of your food, still steaming hot and methodically arranged on the plate. It’s good. No, it’s tremendously good, better than you imagined it to be. 

“Sanji, this is incredible,” you say, not allowing yourself the time to fully swallow. “And I’m not only saying this because I like complimenting you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” His face brightens, a mix of pride and the unpretentious joy he takes from cooking to other people. However he still looks to be preoccupied by something else you never find the right timing to ask about. 

Embarrassment hitching up your throat, you drag your fork across ceramic. Sanji stays silent for a moment; his plate is barely touched. In hopes to escape the tension, your eyes wander to look at his curtains, his shelves, an enframed picture with a gruff old man and a much younger Sanji cheerily holding out a slice of lemon cheesecake. The apartment is small, but tasteful, with decent flooring and a rent anyone your age can afford. White walls, light blue cushioning. A closed balcony where he grows basil and rosemary. 

You are going to sleep over tonight. It’s not that you've never done this before; have dinner together before deciding on a movie you’ll never get to watch because his hand grips on your thigh a little too tightly and your knee presses itself somewhere too bold to go unnoticed. But something feels different now, you cannot quite tell why. He feels different. With his avoidant eyes and stuttering words and index finger that frequently climbs to scratch an eyebrow. 

“If you wanted to break up with me you could’ve chosen a café, you know?” you hear yourself saying, arms folded. 

“What?” His chair scrapes the floor; he tries not to cringe from the sound.  “No, no.” It's ferm. It's rushed. “Why would you think that?” goes unsaid. 

Fingertips digging into the table, Sanji doesn't know how he ended up on his feet. He takes the opportunity to take the seat next to yours, plate and cutlery clanking along as he does. “No one's breaking up with anyone, sweetheart,” words fight their way through the knot in Sanji's throat. 

Sanji shoves his fork in his food which now looks less parmigiana and more like something a primary school kid would make for their art class assignment. Fuck, adding wasted food to his trainwreck fog of thoughts is the last thing he wants for tonight. After he swallows it down, his tone finally relaxes. 

“I was actually thinking of proposing something, now that we’re soon to move up to dessert. Something I'd like us to try,” he says. 

It registers quickly. “Like in bed?”

“It might sound a little weird, though.” Sanji avoids meeting your eyes. His chest rises and falls in a disjointed rhythm as he tries his best to empty his plate. 

“I like weird,” you say, propping your head on a fist, curiosity pushing your mouth a little higher. 

He cannot help but mimic your smile. “Well I bought us something.”

“You did.”

“Yeah, I did.” Not wasting any more time, he pulls the flask out of his pocket, displays it on the dinner table—clear liquid bottled in cerulean crystal, ribbon unfastened and label removed. Your eyes widen. “I was doing some grocery shopping, and stumbled upon this,” Sanji explains. 

You take it in your hands, blinking, carefully not to damage the contents. “Is this an aphrodisiac?” 

“You can call it that,” he says. “It stimulates the senses, so everything should feel a little more intense than usual. I know I haven’t been necessarily adventurous with you, dear,” looking into his plate, then at you. Inevitably he starts thinking of Zoro. “Thought maybe I can start from somewhere.”

Your hand reaches his. “You don’t have to go out of your way for me. You’re perfect for me, yeah? And I have fun with you. Lots of it, actually.”

“I know—” heat rising in throat, he reaches to loosen his shirt collar. “I mean, you’re perfect for me, too, hell I cherish each and every moment we spend together. Kind of felt intrigued to experience this with you, is all. However it’s definitely ok and understandable if you don’t feel comfortable doing it.”

Inspecting the flask in your hands, you give it a second of thought. You know the kind of shops Sanji frequents: equipped with dust and smoke and mysteries. The between-buildings types you have asked about before, and received a response either too vague or too straightforward to be taken seriously. Even still, trust has never been an obstacle. You trust Sanji; he has trustworthy eyes and a soothing voice that feels like a kiss on one’s eyelids. He’s good to you, always has been, when he cradles your face in his palms and calls you his sun and moon and stars, stardust dripping from his eyes as he assures you’re the best he’s had. 

“Does this have any side effect or some sort?” you look up to search for his gaze, and like pulled by a magnet Sanji returns it. 

“No,” he says. “Wears off in the morning. Like nothing happened.”

If you don’t end up running to Zoro, that is. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach as the thought snipes through his mind. He’s not sure how to feel about lying to you, either. But maybe it’s for the best; if it turns out he isn’t your meant-to-be after all.  

Decisive, “Fuck it. Let’s do it, then.”

Sanji’s smirk fades out the anxiety. “In this case our next course will consist of one more secret ingredient.”

Feet swinging, tapping against the floor. Walls drifting apart and closing in. Moments have passed through you like sequences from a dream, and you fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater as Sanji sets the dessert on the table—two delicate things, like they were long intended to play the highlight of your night, light pink and beautifully decorated with dried rose petals and pomegranate seeds. For a minute you marvel at Sanji’s attention to detail, the love he puts into any dish as he turns them into something special and palatable. 

“Baby,” your laugh is a casual play at fragrancy Sanji takes in with a one-sided smile. “There’s no way I can run my teaspoon into this.”

He takes the seat to your right. “The real deal happens when you taste it, sweetheart,” he says, reaching for a teaspoon of his own, strands of blonde hair brushing one cheek as he does. 

And when you eventually do it, run tableware through moulded cream, you relish the sweetness that melts on the roof of your mouth. Sanji asks if you can tell the other thing apart from the dish. You say no, I don’t, do you? I think it’s the pomegranate, he acts like he’s uncertain even though you’re sure it shouldn’t take more than a few seconds. I only used some as decor. But here it’s rather pungent, not that I’m complaining. Child’s play. Halfway through your tasting, a second question comes. 

Do you feel anything? 

I don’t. 

Do you?

No.

Sanji’s heart clutches in his chest. He’s impatient, laughable even, he knows he is, since spells like this should take longer to surface. Three times he mouthed the chant and the potion gracefully vanished into steam as it poured down the servings, no drops left. By the look of that, Sanji might at least expect something to happen. Either bad or reassuring. 

Yet you stay your familiar comfortable selves even after you’ve eaten the whole thing, carrying on as such when you help him—at least attempting to, he never lets you lift a finger—clean the table and watch him washing the dishes from one of his counters. Sleeves pushed to elbows, fingers sunk into the sponge, hair pushed into concentrated, concentrating eyes. Water rolls off his wrists—drip, drop. He tells you something, but you cannot hear him. It hovers towards the ceiling and in the back of your head, a muffled sound engulfing you not less like the numbing feeling of being underwater. Shamelessly you ask him to repeat. 

Okay, maybe you do start feeling some way. 

Sanji turns off the tap. A crushing silence. 

“I was wondering if you thought of something to watch tonight,” he turns to look at you, and stops. 

He cannot tell if it’s your eyes, suddenly looking bigger, or your collarbones, stretching in and out in anticipation, wet lips looking wetter, slightly parted as you breathe, but he feels helplessly drawn to you, like you’ve been tied up by some invisible rope that keeps rolling up, more and more, thinning the space between your bodies. Air catches in his lungs as he lets himself be torn apart by his awe and not knowing what to do with it. 

Just as indiscreetly you wrap your eyes around his shoulders, his chest, his biceps, looking so much more strained under his shirt. Watching him make a step towards you, it seems like his eyes have gotten brighter, cheeks catching a faint tinge of pink, and you have to fight the impulse to dip a hand under your sweater and see how those long fingers of his would feel on you. 

Your fingertips bite into the front edges of the counter. “Not yet, no,” you say, a little disconnected from yourself. Sanji’s scent is an intoxicating mix of rosemary and sandalwood. “Guess we’ll have to browse and see what comes our way.”

“Sure. We’ll look.” Stepping forward, Sanji is the most relaxed he’s felt in days, his limbs and shoulders so much lighter as he moves, comfortably numb in the absence of a thought which has weighted on his back like a fiend draining him of his life force. He knows he has been waiting for something tonight, an answer, you calling a name he cannot bring himself to remember, and yet his mind is blank with nothing but the image of his lips crashing on yours. 

His presence radiates need, and it sends an electric shiver down your spine as he comes closer to you, fingers running over your knuckles. When your eyes align with his, you find it impossible to look anywhere else. So you sink into the blue and drown. Sanji leans further in, and his breath is sultry against your earshell as he speaks. 

“Fuck knows what’s happening to me, dear,” he says, a hoarse sound that makes your thighs squeeze together. “But please tell me you’ll ride my face before anything else.”

But he sure knows what’s going on. He put a spell on you; or something along these lines. 

Your body moves by its own as you push forward, biting your bottom lip, pressing your chest against his. “Want me to fuck your mouth, pretty?” your tone echoes the urgency of his request. 

His lips trail down your ear and across your neck. Suddenly your legs are wrapped around his torso. “Oh, and even more,” he tells you. “I want you to cream on my mouth so much that you’ll never find any other to please you just as good.”

“Then why am I not in your bed yet?” It comes out more desperate than it should. Without realising your fingers have unfastened at least two of his shirt buttons, and now they seem to cling onto his collar for dear life. 

Something flares in him; powerful, primal, which he hasn’t been aware he’s had before, sliding a hand under your hips and picking you up before slamming his lips against yours. The kiss is deep, all tongue. You return it with closed eyes and a breathy moan that pulls Sanji in a frenzied daze. Hands curled at his nape, you lose yourself in the taste of nicotine and pomegranates as you let him carry you past dim lit walls and into the bedroom. He doesn’t bother to turn on the lights. When he hurls you in bed, it’s with a deliberate movement, careful not to bruise you in any way but not the less forceful altogether. 

Then you take care of the rest of his buttons and belt, and he moves his focus to your pants, tugging them off while your mouths can’t gather the resolve to leave each other. Your fingers rake themselves through his hair. Smoothing the skin under your sweater, his hands stop to flatten around your breast. As Sanji presses his weight on you, it becomes impossible not to notice how fucking hard he is, greedy and throbbing against your soaked panties. He’s at his most unbridled tonight, and yet he touches you with the ritualistic devotion of a priest, mouthing syrup into your ear like lighting candles on an altar. The full moon spills in her light through the window, blue and delicate, and for a moment there you are sure Sanji’s contours have caught a prismatic glow, colourful flashes whirling in your vision, wavering around him like some sort of aura. 

After he breaks away, you are still tied together by a thin thread of saliva. He pushes your panties aside, and your back arches when he slides a digit, and then a second one, into your slit. There’s lust in his eyes, the kind you’ve never seen on him before, drinking in the sweet faces you make while his fingers press in and out of you in circling motions, rubbing your clit just so sweetly as he does. 

“Look how wet you are, dearest,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “Always such a lovely mess for me.”

“I want you, Sanji,” you say, aware that you cannot hide the way he makes you feel by looking at him alone. 

It’s you, Sanji.

Your voice echoes in his heart like water dripping in a cave, let it melt inside him with something close to relief. He wants to thank you; and yet he cannot tell exactly what for. What he does instead is pull you into another kiss, less vicious and more affectionate, keeping you close with a hand flattened on your nape. 

The more you kiss him the brighter the room looks. Spectral rainbow fading behind his form. 

“Could you shift your hips for me?” Sanji eventually suggests. “Let me taste you, honey.”

It doesn’t take long to figure out what he means by that. Like a thing of habit, you let Sanji take your spot on the bed, then climb your way onto his face. You take yourself a moment before starting to move, but all wariness disappears the moment he drags a flat tongue across your slit. His voice vibrates into your core as your taste has him mumbling seared praises against your folds. Further you drop yourself on his mouth, and more he laps at your pussy, wet and desperate, coaxing you those sounds that fill the room and blend in with the moonlight. 

Sanji’s tongue has always managed to make you shiver. But this time is different, because you can feel everything; nose and beard and lips, drenched in your slick, white-hot as they rub themselves against your favourite spots. You can feel it when his eyes close and open, taking his time to savour the moment, and when he lets out a pleasured sigh to let you know how grateful he is to be allowed the luxury of tasting you, there is a delirious sensation rushing from your heat and climbing to your back like an electrical shock. It makes you thrust your hips harder against his mouth, call out his name with the urgent solemnity you didn’t know your voice could be able to reproduce. 

Looking at the way Sanji’s lower body tries to helplessly grind against nothing, cock straining in the confines of his boxers, bulging and stained with precum, you come to realise he must be feeling the same as you do. Oh, but Sanji revels in seeing how sweet you can be for him, and how good he can make you feel when he eats you out. He doesn’t mind the pain as long as he gets to lick you off his chin after he’s done. Never someone to dismiss your pleasure over his own. And yet. 

As his mouth diligently works on the heat that is now building in your stomach, and your movements pick up in pace to reach the high, you cannot help not to stare at his cock, thrusting the air to catch up with your rhythm. Hands running a touch across his stomach, you lick your lips. Sanji moans into you when you lean down to tug at his boxers. 

“Angel, what—” you hear him saying. 

Not allowing him the time to protest, you press yourself onto his face. “I’m so close, please,” you inform him, in a voice you don’t recognise. “Please don’t stop.”

So he doesn’t, running his tongue around your clit, not letting a single drop go to waste. You’re almost there. 

“Good goddess, fuck,” he huffs, feeling your hands on his balls, and shortly after your mouth kissing him at the tip. 

He comes that instant; let heat shoot in your mouth and down your throat as you wrap your lips around him, swallowing and licking off everything you can. There is something wrecked in his voice as he’s taken through his crescendo, something like a prayer sent to an all-mighty, and even then he continues to kiss your folds and drag his tongue across you until you come to climb a peak of your own. With Sanji’s taste lingering on the roof of your mouth, tears begin to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you call for him, over and over again, enveloped in pleasures you never thought that existed. 

Only when you’re brought back, a panting mess, you realise Sanji remained just as hard as you left him—something only that weird sex drink could’ve made it happen. You take the opportunity to lift your hips from his mouth and better adjust yourself at his crotch; he starts shifting awkwardly the moment you do. 

“There’s no need to, really.” Sanji is hesitant as he looks down at you, lips red and goatee still soaked with your slick. 

“But I want my meal,” you say, already licking at the tip. “It’s only fair you let me have one too.”

He’s having a hard time saying no to you; but how can he, when you talk with that voice, and when you look at him with those pleading eyes that reflect the gates to Heaven and more? Your mouth takes a little more of him, hot tongue trailing up and down his cock, and his eyes roll back into his head in visible defeat. 

Sanji runs his fingers through your hair. His tone takes to yearning, “So my precious darling is hungry, huh? Cute and silly for my cock?”

“Mhm,” bottom lip rolling up, wetly.

Half smug, half dazed. “Then it’d be cruel of me not to keep you fed.” 

Deeper you push your mouth around him, until he’s twitching in your throat and you start to gag. Sanji’s thumb finds your cheek—please don’t do anything you don’t want to. But you wouldn’t stop. You cannot stop. Not when you get to hear the whimpers he makes as your lips press around the skin ever so slightly, when you look up at his heaving chest, his parted lips, pushing out a broken exhale, the eyes that now flood with wavering reflections of the moonlight and tears threatening to wet his lashes. 

“Oh, my angel.” It’s coarse, struggling for air. His eyes shut close. “My sun, my everything. Yeah, like that. So fucking good.”

Hands coated in spit, you reach to give his balls a gentle squeeze, continue to fill your throat. Once praises have started to spill from Sanji’s mouth, they don’t stop, and they touch a point at which the words feel like no more than babbling, trashed and incoherent, with his hair blown in both of his eyes. His hand sometimes runs to his forehead, other times he uses it to caress your face and pet your hair, but no matter what Sanji stays loud in letting you know how good whatever you’re doing to him feels.

The moment he sets both of his hands on your head, you know it’s because he’s getting close. With a fearful thrust of his cock into your mouth a growl leaves him, and soon after his second release spills down your throat, warm, somehow sweet. You swallow; his chest expands and contracts in attempt to catch his breath. 

Specks of light dash off Sanji’s lips. Pulling you at his level, he clashes them against yours into yet another kiss, sloppy and greedy as he runs his hand down your curves, sinks his fingers into your skin. The touch sears everywhere it reaches; and you cannot do anything but melt in his arms, let yourself be moulded by this growing need that somehow can never quite satiate you. 

“Hope you don’t think you won’t be rewarded for that,” Sanji breathes into your mouth. 

Your lips rolling to his jaw, you say, “Hope you don’t think I’ve had enough of you.”

“I’m here for you to take,” with a quivering hand Sanji squeezes your pussy. “Will always be.”

His fingers send a delightful shock throughout your body. Something close to a moan tears from your throat. “You're such a whore for me, Sanji.” 

“Can you blame me?” Sanji rubs his tip against your inner thigh. “Darling, please look at yourself.”

“For the love of god—” wet and breathless against his ear. “Don’t make me wait any longer.” 

Your impatience endears him, has his heart beating so much faster than it already does. Still he starts slowly, pushing you onto the pillows, taking his time to relish your expression as he lifts your legs and lovingly sets them atop his shoulders. Sanji almost laughs at himself, because even under the influence of this potion that brings out anything wild and viscerally troublesome he has in him, nothing delights him more than getting to unravel you with the same care one deseeds a pomegranate in the kitchen. 

Placing a kiss on your calf, he croons, “Say, sweetheart, what about you? Who do you crave for just so?” 

Not wasting a beat, “You, Sanji.” It’s you. 

He could get off by these words alone. 

“And what do you want from me?” he starts to coat himself in your slick, pressing the tip on your clit every now and then. “Do you want me to fuck you, maybe? Fill you up and call you beautiful?”

You can only nod, legs coiling around his neck in anticipation. “Yeah, yeah. Please fuck me.”

Then you can feel him burying himself into you, and it rips a sound from your mouth as soon as he does. Your hips lift to increase the friction. You accommodate him easily, trembling under him and through the persistent knot in your stomach that has you wanting for more. 

When he bottoms out, his voice is low, hypnotic. “Like this?”

“Like this,” you echo, drowning yourself in the wild glimmer flaring in his eyes.

Fingers dug into your legs, his temples sweaty, Sanji pulls out, then drops himself back in, each motion steadier than the other. Wet sounds fill the sheets as your bodies coil and flatten together like nothing matters in this world but you and this moment and the moon capturing your contours in ethereal glow. Nothing, no one. Sanji speeds his hips, chest flushed and sweltering. Usually you’re not as permissive with your sounds as he is, but tonight they seem to just pour themselves out of your mouth, every sigh and moan and whimper, sugar waterfalls thickening the air as Sanji moves you into each thrust. 

“Ah,” you hear him say, a man aflame. “Refresh my memory, would you, angel? Who did you want to fuck again?”

Through an exhale, “You—” a pause. “Only you.”

“You feel so good,” he whines, collapses with a slapping sound. “So sweet, so perfect for me.”

Blue and pink and yellow; just as vivid when you close your eyes. He goes in deep, deeper, and your thighs are shivering against his torso. 

“Yeah? You like that?” legs tightening their grip around him. “Like it when I take you good and confess?”

“More than that,” Sanji is breathless. “Makes me insane. You’re making me go insane.”

You wouldn’t admit it, but you know how it feels. To have your sanity run scarce by a voice telling you how faultless you are, that no matter how you see yourself you will always be a cosmos in someone else’s eyes. If anything, you should know this better than anyone else, the maddening feeling of being fed honey and sugar glaze as your thoughts are pressed against body heat. Lost in his trance Sanji picks up the pace, and there’s a wet, debauched mewl that overrides even the careless crash of your skins. 

Lip caught under your teeth, “Want to, mh—wanna hear another confession, baby?” 

“What’s on your mind, my sweet?” Sanji’s lips ghost over your calf. 

“Think I—” with a thrust your eyes are hurled to the ceiling. “Fuck, I think I love you.”

Vulnerable. 

Suddenly his chest drops against yours, a chance for your legs to flatten across his back, pulling him the closest you can. His fingers interlace with yours as he sinks into the crook of your neck. 

Reckless. 

The pace doesn’t slow down, but you can very well tell it’s become sloppier than before. A lost rhythm. When you look at him again, you are quick to notice the dampness pushing at the corners of his eyes. 

“I love you too,” glad to finally word it this way. “I love you so much.” 

Then he continues to rut into you, shaky voice fogging your neck the moment your nails pierce into his back. Your hips thrust themselves up, desperate for tandem. Heat erupts inside you. Another peak you’re yearning to chase. 

“‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna come,” you tell him, cheek brushing over his hair. 

“Let go, my dear,” in a frail tone. “Let me hear you.”

With a squeeze of your hand Sanji fucks you the way you need him to—viciously. 

He could try. He could at least try to make you fall so hard for him that you will keep your words even after the spell wears off. 

You pull at his hair, mean and senseless as a sudden burst of pleasure tears through you. Your lips move without being able to hear the words. There must’ve been something you said, though, you’re sure there was, because Sanji’s soon chasing after, hung on a mournful vowel, flooding you through his end. 

The moon soaks into your bodies.

iv. 

Sanji wakes up with tinnitus. He blinks, once, twice, waiting for the specks of colour before his eyes to rearrange into furniture. The next thing he recognises is your breathing, small and lukewarm on his chest. Instinctively his arms wrap themselves around you, and there’s a long exhale when they do. You’re naked, both of you. His head becomes heavy with flashes of last night, lips pressed together, bending sternum, and soon they are replaced with the sound of a name he thought he couldn’t remember. Sentiments he thought he discarded. 

He thought he would lose you. 

But you are still here. 

Before knowing it, his arms are shaking, and like he’s done many times when he finds it impossible to contain himself, he covers his eyes with an elbow. 

He starts crying. 

Muffled, subtle, more worried about waking you up than about having to figure out an excuse for his tears. Droplets roll off his cheeks and onto his collarbone. His chest jerks up and down in a pathetic staccato. He wishes he were someone with more control over his emotions, sometimes, during moments like this. But he isn’t, and he cannot change, just like he cannot be many other things. 

A soft rustle beneath the sheets. Arms squeezing his torso. 

“Sanji, hey.” The words come out rasp, still filled with sleep. When he doesn’t answer, there’s a thumb wiping across his cheek. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I’m sorry,” is all he can manage. 

Warmly, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry,” he hiccups again. “I’m so sorry.”

Because he doubted you. Because he cannot fucking stop doubting himself. Heaven knows he’d tell you all these things, were he a braver man. Instead there’s only one thing that seems to be coming out of him, a broken record.

“I’m sorry.”

You wouldn’t want to pressure him. Without saying anything else you keep Sanji in your arms, squeeze him tighter as his tears blend with your hair and your fingers move to soothe his frantic shoulders. Salt pours on his bottom lip. Sanji accepts the comfort despite his better judgement, burying his face into your neck, trying to focus on the sound of your breathing. You stay like this for a while. 

There are so many things he’d want to tell you; the kind of things that eat through his guts and tear him apart. Silly images of him taking you to the Baratie, teaching you the way around potions, topping your hand as you sign your name in blood and knowledge, are you to feel rebellious enough. 

And he will, one day; talk to you about everything he’s ever seen and touched. Now, however, he closes his eyes and hopes you will somehow catch a flicker of all the love he has in him; everything that makes him foolish. 

by far the longest thing i've written in years & it's a boring au. now excuse me but i need to go lie down for a while.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Sweets & Sweeties

You opened a bakeshop called Sweets & Sweeties which was just beside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and one day you accidentally lock yourself outside.

George Weasley x Reader (x Fred Weasley) | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, Murphy's law, fred lives stfu, fluff, rizzler!Georgie, typos, etc.

A/N: i have this fic called tormented spirit and its fucked me up cos of how sad it is HAHAHAH i need a break and thats coming from someone who LOVES angst. ALSO i was never super into Harry Potter so idk lore™ but I've been watching the phelps twins and their baking show related content and i'm just so endeared by them AHHHHHHHHH. please leave comments/reblogs because this feels a bit mid cos i havent written fluff in 100 years T_T cross posted on ao3 | continuation fic

@pendragora if i have to suffer, you have to suffer

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was always busy. Everyday, there were children and children-at-heart going up and down the block, eager to buy themselves trinket or treat to promptly cause mischief.

Because of the shop's success, your own shop also benefitted from it. Sweets & Sweeties was your dream come true. As a child, you loved sweet treats, and you would grow to learn you loved making them just as much.

You hadn't expected to sell out as often as you did, and you knew it was all thanks to the fact the establishment next door brought as many customers as they did, who then became your customers.

You were extremely grateful, and tried time and time again to show it through a simple gesture of a gift. It was rather hard to find the time to do so however, as the neighbor establishment was constantly packed. The first time you saw the owner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, he had introduced himself as: "George Weasley," he says, dusting off his hands before reaching one out for you.

You merely stare at him, your smile flattening slightly, only to grow wider as you chuckle. Both of your hands held a tray of cake, and it was quite a weighty cake at that, "I-"

"Right," he brushes his hands on his trousers, "right. Sorry, let me help you with that."

He takes the cake from you and ushers you deeper into the store. You gasp when a small child runs across him, unfortunately bumping into his side. Thankfully, George manages to lift the cake, evading the collision. The girl who bumped into him looks up, eyes wide, hands clutched, looking rather guilty, "s-sorry, Mr. Weasley."

The tall man's brows furrow as he looks down. He whines, "s'not Mr. Weasley, it's George."

The girl stares at him for a moment.

"Say it with me: George."

She clutches her chest and mutters, "Georgie?"

George purses his lips together in a soft smile and nods, "Georgie it is then."

Your hand comes to your mouth as you chuckle and follow after the red haired man. He leads you into the back office and you gasp yet again, this time, because of the photograph on the wall. It was a family portrait of a myriad of other red heads breaking into a wide grin.

"There's two of you!" you point.

George sets the cake down on his desk and crosses his arms once he's besides you, "nah. There's only one person in the family as good looking as me," he turns to the photograph, "that's my twin brother, Fred."

"Oh," you turn to him, taken off guard by how close he was, "is..." you casually take a step back, "he around?"

"Yeah," he shrugs, "probably showing the customers how to use the thingamabobs."

You chuckle and nod, "well," you motion vaguely, "I know you're very busy, so I won't take any more of your time."

The man tilts his head, lips curled into an soft grin as he shrugs, "you don't hear me complaining, love."

You aimlessly look off to steel away the giggle that threatened to leave your lips, "right," you clear your throat, "ehhh, do tell me if the cake is to you—"

Before you can even finish your thought, George is back at his desk. He swipes a dollop of frosting and tastes it.

"—r... liking."

He raises his brows as he nods, "it's to my liking."

The both of you just stand there for a moment, staring at each other. You're now rather painfully aware of your breathing.

You start when the office door bangs open and a near exact replica of George comes walking in, "you would not believe what just—"

George's eyes are on you as you turn to his twin. You raise your hand, "hi... I'm-" you point to nowhere, "-the baker next door."

He turns to George, then back to you, reaching out his left hand, "Fred Weasley."

You smile and shake his hand, speaking your name in return.

"Hey!" George walks over, reaching out a hand, "I didn't get a handshake!"

You turn to George and his outstretched left hand, about to shake it, but Fred does not release you, and only turns to his twin.

"Fred-"

"I'm not done."

George watches Fred shake your hand, "well that's more than enough."

"Not really," Fred shrugs.

You chuckle softly, making them turn to you. You then offer your other hand to George, crossing your arm over the other, "here."

George looks at it and takes it with his right one. The three of your shake each other's hands for a questionably long time.

When you're finally released, you hold back a laugh and rub your palms on the side of your hips, "right... it was a pleasure to meet you both."

They nod in sync, "the pleasure is ours."

You giggle and raise a hand in regard, "come by my shop sometimes."

They wave back at you as you head for the door.

"I'll make you both a cuppa."

They smile as you exit their office. Once you were gone, the brothers instantly turn to each other.

Fred says, "she's cute."

"Yeah, I saw her first," George counters.

"Pfft, so what?"

"So, everything."

Meeting them was so... notable, that you thought about it the entire day. You found yourself giggling about the handshake for the nth time as you closed up, and right after you heard the door click, you whip your head back in realization that you'd left your bag in the counter, along with your keys.

You shake the doorknob, trying to will the door open, though you knew it was pointless, "no, no, no, NO!"

You step back and stare at the windows of your shop. You ruffle your hair and huff as you debate how bad the idea of breaking the glass with the rock would be.

You stare that your sign that read Sweets & Sweeties, feeling taunted by it so suddenly, and then you remember you forgot another thing. The window on the rooftop was surely open from when you opened it to let out some steam. What's more, it looked like it was about to rain!

"Oh," you groan and wrap your arms around yourself, "thank goodness I left my brolly too."

You crouch in front of your unlit shop, feeling rather helpless.

You hear a bell ring and turn to the shop next door. Out comes George and Fred, much wiser than you, with their brollies and suitcases in hand. They call your name in unison and you sigh as you come to stand.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" one of them says.

You freeze at the pet name, and he seems to catch on. He points upward, "sweetie."

You turn to your sign and feel bashful. You awkwardly chuckle, "right, I-"

"You alright?" another asks.

You look between them, "yeah," and shake your head, "no, ehhh, sorry... I... which is," you point in confusion, "which?"

"George," the one to your right raises a hand.

"Fred," the one to your left raises a hand.

"Right," you lower your head as you shake it, "sorry, I don't-"

"You'll get used to it," they say in unison.

You huff as you look back at them, both of their lips are pursed, "right..." you turn to your shop and point, "I, eh... locked myself out."

They turn to where you did.

"And I left my bag..."

They turn back to you.

"And my keys."

They make a face.

"And my brolly," you turn to you feet for a moment, "and the window in my roof open."

"Oooh," they say at once. George bares his teeth, "bad luck."

"And," Fred adds, looking up, "it looks like it's about to rain."

"I know!" you gasp, placing your hands on both sides of your head.

For a moment, the three of you stand there, soaking in your misfortune. A moment later, George turns to his brother and says, "hang on."

Fred turns to him.

"Don't we have a window in the roof, Fred?"

Fred turns to you, "that we do, George."

George turns to you too, "how are you with heights?"

"Ehhh..." your lips part, "....fine?"

With that, the twins head to the entrance of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, beckoning you over. They reopen the lights, leave their things by the door, and lead you upstairs.

"Now," George (you think) says, "I'd like to think our roof's pretty sturdy, but," he pulls out wand from his coat jacket, "I can always do a good ol' Levioso if anything goes awry."

You are comforted by the thought and nod as you make your way up. When you get to the top, you see a singular tiny window by the side of the roof and you momentarily wonder if this was a good idea.

"D'ya know what," George (you think) says, turning to his brother, "you should go down and watch her as she crosses, so in case anything happens," he points, "you can make sure she doesn't fall."

Fred (you think) shakes his head, "why me?"

"Because it was my idea to cast Levioso, Fred," George (you were right) retorts.

"Then you go down!" Fred whines.

"I'm not going down," he crosses his arms, "I just got here."

"Yeah, so did I—"

"SCISSORS, PAPER, ROCK!"

You watch to the instant match the twins have, finding one rock and scissors at hand. George grins, raising his winning fist. Fred rolls his eyes and sighs. He turns to you before going down.

George smiles and motions with his head, "come on then, I'll help you up."

He drags a box towards the window and reaches a hand out to you. You take his hand and step up, then reach for the sides of the window, pulling yourself up to get on the roof. You are glad their window was right in front of yours and that it wasn't a far walk at all.

Fred, who just got outside, catches his breath before cupping the sides of his mouth, "careful!"

You turn to him from below and call back, "trying!"

George watches you closely as you cross to the other side. He probably shouldn't think the wobble of your limbs endearing, but he does. The moment reach your window, he claps, "aye!"

You are quick to jump down, grunting as you do so. You turn around and smile at George who was already smiling back at you. He raises his hands, "you did it, sweetie!"

"I did, wheezing wizard!"

"Well," he tilts his head, "it's Wizard Wheezes but..." he shrugs, "you can just call me Georgie."

You raise your brows.

"I- I mean George."

You chuckle and purse your lips as you shake your head, "too late, Georgie."

"Now, hold on-"

"See you downstairs, Georgie!" you give a toothy grin as you close your window. You bite your lip and giggle to yourself for a moment, "cutie."

Georgie clenches his jaw as he stares the window. He sighs and kicks the box away before closing it, "damn."

[lunetoone]

dont ignore me

s: harry cant stop looking at cho, leading to you ignoring him for a period of days. he can't handle it so he decides to disperse the situation himself.

harry j potter x fem!reader

five days. five days you've neglected harry, five days youve neglected his needs for you and his desperate need of your attention. he tries so hard to talk to you before you leave potions class but you talk to pansy so lively without sparing him a glance.

the reasoning behind the avoidance was he couldn't keep his eyes off of cho five days prior. sure you two arent in a relationship but does that mean all the late nights hookups and secret kisses in between classes meant nothing to him?

you skipped dinner that night, eager to finish the book you've picked up a couple days back. the girls dorm was empty, setting your mind at ease, just the thought of the quiet book read is making you excited. although upon opening your dorm room you find yourself quite surprise, or interested.

harry james potter, the boy who lived, a powerful wizard on his knees staring up at you with glossy eyes. you fight back a smirk, "what are you doing doing here potter." you cross your arms trying your best to not jump and giggle at this sight.

"please, look at me in class" he grabs your hand and place your palm on his cheek, leaning on it "please, touch me like this when nobody is looking" the desperateness of his voice made you tingle. he brought your palm to his lips, kissing it while his eyes focused on your own pupils. "i miss you, stop ignoring me. I'll make it up to you"

you wanted to strip naked right then and there with the way hes looking at you. "why should i? go get cho to do these things to you" a tear ran down his cheeks and you felt yourself becoming more excited by the second. your palm now in-between his hands, hes holding it dear "i want you, please i dont need cho, just you." his begging so nicely how could you deny?

"show me how much you really want me then" with no hesitation he stands up and pull you in a kiss, hands having its own mind exploring your beautiful body.

you melt in the kiss, your hands on his chest gradually going lower. when your hands reach his lower abdomen his breath hitches and you smirk in the kiss. his hand now on your neck pulling you further in the kiss. you hands tease on his crotch, palming it harry lets out a high pitch moan. "shit y/n, its been five days i might explode just by your touch"

you laugh at his joke, he continues kissing you, his mouth now on your neck. your hands palm his clothed cock slowly, teasing it by stroking it up and down. his moans and pauses from kissing you indicates just how much hes been waiting on this. you decide to tease him further by kissing his neck, the beautiful moans he lets out was music to your ears. the teasing of his dick and the feeling of your warm tongue on his neck is sending waves of pleasure to harry.

you push him on your bed on get on top of him, grinding your clothed wet cunt on his own clothes private. his head now in the nook of your neck hand gripping your waist tightly. you let out a small moan in his ear and bite it playfully and harry just snapped.

"ah.. fuck y/n" he bites your neck and moans, body flinching and breaths faced. "oh my god harry did you just-" "please, im embarrassed as it is, don't point it out" you laugh to yourself and he sits up properly, pouting.

they way his hair clung to his forehead from sweat made you lick your lips. "ill make it up to you y/n.. just dont tell anybody about this" "oh.. i dont know, i think ron and hermione would love this story" you gasp in surprise when he grabs you by the waist to pin you down, body hovering over you. "you won't find it so funny when i fuck that attitude out of you"

"dont forget harry, we're just friends" "fuck that, tonight we're more than friends.. im going to-" his seducing words were cut off by giggles of girls outside the door, "just when it was getting good"

"harry??? how am i going to explain this?" "dont worry love, ive brought my invisibility cloak" he kisses your lips and puts on the cloak, just in time for the girls to come in. "oh y/n! there you are, im surprised you aren't with harry, he too wasn't at dinner. i hope you two still aren't fighting" hermione puts her books on the table, while looking at you concerning. you stare at the spot harry was on knowing he's still there "dont worry hermione, all is well" you wink to the blank wall and smile to yourself.

[propheticclown]

I need you all to understand. I've seen so many people talk about how Eridan would be slaying the fashion scene. How his fashion sense is awesome and epic, or whatever. NO! Firstly, I wanna preface this by saying that Pesterquest falls under the category of "Dubiously Canon." so his massive closet isn't actually canon. But secondly, LOOK AT HIS FUCKING FIT, MY GUY!

THE DEEP BLUE WITH THE PURPLE??? THE CAPE??? THE HAIR??? BROOOOOTHER!!! THEY EVEN CHANGED THE COLORS OF HIS SCARF AND PANTS TO LOOK BETTER IN PESTERQUEST!

It's subtle but the color shifts towards indigo/cobalt rather than royal blue. "B-But what about March Eridan? March Eridan looks good and is canon!" I don't know how brainrotted you are from buying all your clothes from shien (derogatory) and temu (derogatory) to think that March Eridan looks good, but let me just show you what it looks like again to refresh your memory.

Ignoring the insanity that's even happening with this image in the first place, this IS the Original March Eridan image. Now let me tell you why this fit is more atrocious than Kankri Vantas' takes on feminism. 1. THE COLORS DO NOT WORK!!! His VIOLET symbol combined with MAGENTA arm warmers and thigh highs and a RED SKIRT???? AUUHHG NONE OF THESE COLORS LOOK AESTHETICALLY PLEASING TOGETHER IN A FASHION SENSE!!! NAME ONE TIME RED AND PURPLE HAVE EVER LOOKED GOOD TOGETHER IN TERMS OF FASHION??? 2. STRIPES AND FUCKING PLAID??? WHAT??? IN CARTOONS, MUSIC, BOOKS, AND EVEN FUCKING GAMES, DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH "Ew stripes and plaid." IS SAID??? THAT IS LIKE THE NUMBER 1 NONO IN ANY FASHION WORLD!!! 3. AND WHILE THIS ONE IS A BIT OF A STRETCH, THERE IS NO CONVINCING ME THAT ERIDAN AMPORA WOULD WILLINGLY WEAR THIS SHIT! IT JUST DOES NOT MAKE SENSE FOR HIS CHARACTER TO WEAR THIS OUTFIT! FASHION IS A WAY OF EXPRESSING ONESELVES! FASHION, AS A MEDIUM OF ART, IS A WAY A PERSON CAN EXPRESS HOW THEY FEEL ON THE INSIDE! March Eridan as an outfit, artistically expresses confidence, empowerment and a general "I'm a bad bitch you can't kill me" energy. Here's the problem. Eridan at his base components is envious, closed off, emotionally volatile, and a massive fucking nerd, which the old outfit actually does express.

His clothes are long-sleeved, showing the least possible amount of skin he can, which usually can represent being closed off. His cape is large and grandiose, showing that he likes to be exaggerated and theatrical. His scarf indicates his nerdiness, with it being a reference to Harry Potter and how it could be a tie-back to his nerdy love of wizards. The only other outfit he's shown wearing is with a flashback to when he and Vriska were a kismesis.

Here the outfit, even with as little as we see of it, is big and intense. Unlike Vriska, who essentially doesn't change outfits, Eridan puts time and effort into each theatrical performance he considers himself to be a part of. He adores intricate and exaggerated outfits. Things that are fancy, complex, and over-the-top. So that even though he doesn't feel great on the inside, even though he feels as though he's "wworse than evverybody. all the bodies." He can still look well put together. And that's WHY I don't think March Eridan as an outfit works. It's too casual for him. It's not big or flashy in a way he likes. There's not enough for him. It doesn't cover him up and because of that, he'd feel exposed. He's not closed off anymore. It doesn't exude "Eridan Ampora". Who's "most casual" piece of apparel is probably a sweater vest.

Even in the original image, he looks uncomfortable, like he doesn't actually LIKE wearing it. The only way I can find this artistically working from a writing standpoint is if Kanaya made it for him because, in the story, it is shown time and time again that Kanaya doesn't understand Eridan, so by making him this outfit, she'd take it a step further by not even understanding what he likes. Kanaya doesn't understand that Eridan is terrified of being culled, because Kanaya doesn't have to worry about that. Kanaya doesn't understand the pressures Alternian society is forcing upon him, as an Orphaner. Because Kanaya's only societal expectation is raising the new mother grub. Kanaya doesn't think about how he's most likely going to live the longest out of all his friends. Eridan has the second highest lifespan out of every troll blood color, but even then with Feferi, she's most likely going to get culled by the Condense when she's the proper age to inherit the throne. So in Eridan's mind, he's going to be alone, expected to be an Orphaner until the day he dies, utterly alone to feed Feferi's lusus until he eventually succumbs to old age or dies in war. That's why he's so closed off, yet so emotionally grand. That's why March Eridan doesn't suit him from a fashion-artistic standpoint. It's not what Eridan Ampora embodies as a character. Envy.

[elliebyrrdwrites]

Marriage Law Trope #7

I'm not entirely pleased with how these came. Good news is, when I finally edit them all and put them up onto Ao3, I can work on them a bit more, flesh out the parts I don't find entirely...done. But, like they say, out of sight, out of mind.

Granger tells me that it doesn’t mean anything.

That this joining of our bodies, the consummation of our marriage, doesn’t mean a thing. I tell her that she’s wrong. This? The feel of my hand on her stomach, the feel of my tongue lapping in between her thighs? The way my tongue takes, long, deliberate strokes so that I can taste every bit of her heated arousal? The way she’s cries and whimpers against me, lifting there hips until her mound is pressed into my nose?

The way she grips at my shoulders, my hair, as she looks down at me? The way my eyes captures hers while I taste her?

It’s everything.

I could live for this.

The way she shudders and jerks when I keep going, long after she’s come. I want to see how many times I can make her break in a day. I want to keep having her look up at me all doe eyed and dazed. Like the lust and her pleasure run so deep that she forgets who it is she’s fucking. I want to watch the way she lazily reaches out for me after I make her come and gathers me against her body. I want to feel her cling to me, begging me to slide my cock into her swollen cunt.

It’s soft and swollen and slick. The things is impervious to overuse. Nothing like a useless dick. It can keep going.

And it does.

I just keep fucking her with my tongue, and my fingers, and my dick. I keep making her come, and I keep her all to myself. She never makes it to brunch.

She never makes it out of The house.

All weekend, I keep her. I keep her close, with my fingers bruising her hips and my mouth leaving marks all over her boy, claiming her for mine and mine alone.

She is still insisting that this doesn’t mean anything. She says that it can’t.

And I think she’s trying to tell me that whatever was between her and Weasley never ended before we got married.

Which is fine. That is something I can deal with at a separate time.

Because, I spend the entire weekend buried between Grangers legs like it’s a job. No. I spend my time nestled between her thighs like it’s the only thing I need to survive. Because money, drugs and food are not enough. They mean nothing.

This.

Grangers sweet, tangy sex is where it’s all at.

So. When she rolls out of bed on Monday morning, telling me to let her go, to get my hands out of her hair and out of her knickers, I might have sulked like a petulant child.

I might have hissed when she kicked my shin and I might have scowled at her as she got ready for work.

I’m listening to the sound of the shower and I am watching her get dressed and I’m panicking.

Because she’s leaving and I’m going to be left alone to do nothing. I mean, that’s fine. Because I can paint, but I need breaks from that. I need to take breaks to breathe and drink and eat but the only thing I want to do is breathe and drink and eat her.

It’s angering. Because this isn’t right.

The point is, we don’t belong here. We’re stuck in a marriage that was never borne from love and we’re stuck in a home that neither of us chose but it’s what we got and we’re stuck with it. And we’re stuck with each other.

And the point is, I would have chosen her. In some life or another, I would choose her. Because I am hers. My magic is tethered to hers. There’s an algorithm that the brightest witches and wizards who work for the minister put together and it says the same thing.

I belong to her. Because when I peered in between her thighs and I kissed my way up the inside of her leg, I found that heart shaped freckle, there on the inside of her thigh. And it doesn’t make any sense, but somehow, I know its because I am right. This is the universes way of telling us to give in and to be.

When she’s gone and the house is cold and empty and the light cannot penetrate the curtains or my mind, I leave the house.

The point is, I can’t figure out why Granger wanted me in the first place. How could a witch who was already dating another wizard want me? She’s hardly around and she’s always hated me.

But she gave in to me too easily, too eagerly.

It doesn’t matter that she kept saying it was a mistake. Because, she kept doing it. She spent the entire weekend letting me taste her and have her and she just kept taking. She takes and takes and in return, I end up feeling like I need clarification.

The point is, I can’t sit around this house one more day without settling something.

So, I leave the house.

One by one, each set of eyeballs roll toward me as I step into the Atrium Café inside of the Ministry of Magic. One by one, the chatter dies down and in their place, whispers are born.

One by one, the whispers about Malfoy fill the café as my eyes scan and find Granger. She’s huddled around a little round table with Ronald Weasley. His arm is thrown around her shoulders, his hand is tangled in her hair and he’s hunched over, speaking for only her ears.

She’s staring down at the table, her eyes distant. Her little eyebrows are scrunched up and her little mouth is pursed into a little flower and i know, I know, she is remembering the feeling of my mouth on her body. She’s is remembering her confession of wanting me more than she wants him.

But she doesn’t move away when he lifts his other hand to her cheek and forces her to look up at him.

There’s six million little legs crawling up my body. They’ve taken control, these ants. Because, they’re making me itch and they’re making me stalk through the café as the eyeballs roll around the room and watch as I approach the table where Granger is letting Weasley touch her and all I can do is listen to their commands.

When I reach them and slap a hand over my neck, she looks up at me.

Her eyes widen as they take me in. I’m dressed in a white undershirt, speckled in paint and my slacks hang loosely around my hips. I’m full of terrible flaws, but when she looks at me like that, I forget them all. Because she looks at me like I’m something unique and as terrible as I am, she finds me attractive.

I shake my hair away from my face as Weasley’s eyes sharpen on me. He leans back in his chair, his hand still on her. His fingers are still latched onto her hair and he takes his stupid eyes and he scrutinizes me. He thinks Granger is too good for me. And, she is.

But she has me and I won’t give that up.

“That’s my wife, Weasel.” The entire café falls silent. Everyone has died and this place is now a cemetery as my quiet words seem to echo off of the walls. This graveyard holds the ghosts of our pasts and the memory of our bodies betraying everything we were ever taught.

I can see the rage flare in his stupid face. Because, he goes red and his eyes grow hard as his hand palms the back of her neck.

He’s doubling down and he says, “Only on paper, ferret.”

“Ron,” Granger sighs and makes to move, but Weasley isn’t going to let this end smoothly.

He tightens his hold on her neck and his thumb swipes over the curve of it. The same curve that my mouth sucked and nibbled at.

My head tilts as I run my eyes over her. She’s remembering my mouth on her. She’s remembering the way it felt to give into our wants and needs and how it threw her entire world off balance

My eyes narrow in on her mouth. “I think it’s a little more than that,” I smirk and look her in the eye. “Isn’t that right, love?”

Weasley catches my implication and pushes to his feet. “Piss off, Malfoy.” He leans his hands onto the table and sneers at me. “She doesn’t want you. She was forced into marrying you. Are you actually pathetic enough to believe that it means anything? That, somehow, there is more between the two of you?”

He isn’t finished He’s going to get it all out, now. The opportunity has presented itself to him and in front of the world, he’s decided to vomit all of his words and all of his hate onto me.

“Because, it’s been me, Malfoy.” He spits. “It’s been my bed she crawls into for the past three years. It’s been me who has had her heart in my hands. Her body isn’t meant for you. It never was. Because it’s mine. It doesn’t matter what the legal documents say, because I still get to have her in all the ways you never could.”

It only takes a moment for my body to react.

My leg lifts and my foot kicks into the edge of the table. The table slams into Weasley’s gut, knocking him to the floor and the air from his lungs.

Granger screams and leaps out of the way before I jump on Weasley. He’s gasping for air and fighting to breathe and I make it worse.

Because, I like to use my hands.

There’s the feeling of flesh and bone against my knuckles. I can hear the bridge of his nose break and I can feel the blood pouring out of his nose and into my skin, in between my fingers. It bleeds into the miniscule lines of the top layer of my skin and I can feel it splattering against my face as I continue to beat the man.

I’m hitting him and I’m making him take back all of those hateful words. Because the idea of Granger being with anyone else hurts.

“Draco,” Granger’s calm voice breaks my concentration and my hands falter, they slip with all of the blood and land on either side of Weasley’s head as my eyes flick up to meet hers.

Granger is looking down at me, a mix of anger and resolve on her pretty little face. She holds out her hand and with her eyes, she asks me to take it. She uses her eyes and tells me to come with her.

For just a moment, I hang my head and close my eyes. I have to force the little legs running all over my body to calm down. They’re overly excited by the rush of blood my body takes. The adrenaline is still pounding through my system and it’s taking all of my energy not to do anymore harm. Weasley is coughing and spitting out the blood, his hands covering his face, protecting himself from further harm.

And for a second, I actually feel a shred of remorse.

So, I lift my head and nod my head before I take her hand and let her help me to my feet.

“Oh, Draco.” She sighs and shakes her head. She sounds so sweet, I want to eat her up. She shakes her head and looks up at me with the big sunset eyes and her walls are all the way down as they gobble me up.

I take her little face in my bloody hands and cradle it. I should be angry with her for continuing whatever it is between the two of them, but I can’t. I look at her face and her big eyes and I can’t be angry with her. I see her eyes and I know she’s mine. Somehow, she has always been mine.

“It’s over.” I tell her. “Whatever you had with him, it’s over.” And she just nods up at me, her eyes centering in on my mouth before I kiss her.

In the middle of the Ministry, I declare the inevitable. Because, I can feel her melting into me, all of her resistance is fading away as she slowly gives in.

I forget all about Weasley and when we break apart, I nod once before wrapping my hand around hers. I’m taking her home with me and she wont be able to fight me. She wont want to.

I forget all about Weasley until Granger shouts his name. I forget all about Weasley before his fist reaches out and hits me against the jaw.

I forget all about everything as my body falls and my face slams against the tiled floor.

And as the world goes black and the skin on my brow splits open, my blood spilling onto the floor, I remember one thing.

….

“It’s always going to be him, isn’t it?” Ron is near tears as he watches me tend to my unconscious husband.

Draco’s long body is draped over the couch, his head lolled to the side, his long leg hanging over the arm of it. We’re in Harry’s office, where I levitated his body, so that I can heal him in private.

Harry’s face is pursed in disapproval as he looks between Draco and Ron as he tends to the broken nose that is still gushing blood.

I sigh and sweep a lock of hair off of Draco’s forehead. “He’s my husband, Ron.” I argue but really, he is so much more. He always has been. He always will be.

“He’s a fucking psychopath!”

Harry sighs when Ron’s face jerks out of his hand as he leaps off of Harry’s desk and glares at me. He can see the way my fingers are gentle against Draco’s face. He can see it in the way I take great care to heal his wounds, that he has lost me. He lost me over three years ago when I went back to Hogwarts. He lost me the minute Draco stumbled upon me in the middle of a panic attack. He lost me the second Draco decided to put all of his attention on me.

Even after I lost Draco, I was always going to be lost to anyone else.

“He is not!” Whatever Draco is, it isn’t psychotic. Whatever he is, it’s never stopped me from gravitating toward him. And And I know he wont ever be stable, but it doesn't make him less appealing, less loveable.

“He is and you still want him! He hurt you and you still want him. It’s sick.”

I don’t respond as I seal the gash on Draco’s brow with the tip of my wand. Look, I didn’t plan on being forced to marry the boy who broke my heart. I didn’t plan on having to face the nightmare that is his family for the foreseeable future. I tried to fight it. I did. Because I was so angry at him, I didn’t want to be his again.

I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to see me as anything else but unattainable. Because that is what he was for me.

Because to him, I was nothing. I didn’t exist.

I expected him to shun me the way he had been for the past three years. Instead, he took to me like a moth to a flame. He followed me around with that same wild-eyed look and stalked me like his prey.

It was impossible not to give in this weekend. He was there, in all of his manic glory and the realization that I never stopped loving him was painful. Because he was there, right in front of me, touching me and wanting me and how could I say no?

How could I lie to him?

“He’s just going to hurt you again.” Ron’s voice breaks through my reveries. They shatter the glass bubble I climb into whenever I stare at Draco. His features were hard and harsh, though the beauty of him was undeniable. His eyes expressed everything he couldn’t say.

His eyes always undo me.

“We don’t know that, Ron.” Harry argues. “He’s living with Hermione. His father’s hold on him is loosening more and more each day.” His eyes slide over to Draco, who is still out cold on the couch and I can see the wheels in his mind working. “I think he feels trapped.”

“Are you actually defending him?” Ron shouts in disbelief and Harry winces. “Harry, he just attacked me for having a relationship with Hermione before this stupid law passed.”

Harry shrugged and I can’t help but close my eyes and massage my temples with the tips of my fingers.

“Draco doesn’t just look at me like his property.”

“Bullshit.” Ron hisses, cutting me off.

“I think he loved me.”

Ron throws his head back and laughs, derisively. “You’re mental.”

“Ron, don’t.” Harry scolds him. With a sigh, he opens the door to his office and gestures outside. “Let’s go get you healed and give them some time alone.”

Ron glares over at me for a moment before he heads for the door. But he pauses before he can leave and he looks over at me. “This,” He points to me and to Draco. “This wont last. Don’t expect me to be there for you when it all blows up in your face.”

All I can do is roll my eyes as he and Harry leave, quietly shutting the door behind them.

I stare down at Draco and feel my bones melting into something useless, as I admire him. Because even with all of the bruises and all of the blood, all of the torment that you can see in his eyes, even when he’s asleep, I cant stop myself from wanting to keep him. I can’t help but feel like even in a room full of art, he would be the most beautiful and intriguing thing in the room to me.

My fingers graze his jaw, just barely, admiring the hard bone and muscle under his bruised skin when he gasps.

Draco gasps and his eyes pop open.

His wild eyed gaze falls on me and stun me into place.

For a second, we stare back at each other, wide eyed and frozen.

And then his hand jerks out and thread painfully into my hair.

He pulls me down and his lip curves into a sneer as my face hovers over his before he growls up at me,

“You.”

….

My body falls hard onto the floor, pain cracks into my face. But, my mind drifts up into the edges of the universe. It floats for lightyears. It drifts forever and ever until it lands on a moment.

It lands on a moment that’s been taken from me and given into the heavens like a fading, dying star.

There’s Granger and me. In this moment, this memory, there is Granger and me and we’re alone in the school library. This isn’t he same nugget of gold I’ve been sitting on. This isn’t the secret looks of admiration from afar that I used to spend my time seeking out as a youth.

this is a moment from a different time.

This is a moment that somebody tole from me.

And it is me and it is her and it is our mouths greedily tasting the other. It is our hands roaming the expanse of our bodies, memorizing the lines and curves an divots.

And it isn’t just a dream. I have been dreaming about Granger for years and this isn’t a dream.

Trust me, I know.

Because there is her and there is me and all of the things in between that keep pulling and pushing at us.

I used to kiss her and hold her and she used to let me.

I don’t know if it was for one night or a lifetime but it’s there. That memory of familiarity is still there when I thread my hands through her hair and when she slaps at me with all of her pent up anger.

Her eyes are wide and full of fear as she stares down at me, as I hold her close enough to smell her skin. I’m taking all of her data, all of her smells and textures and I’m stuffing them into my mouth so that I can taste the memory of her again and again. I’m forcing the flavors onto my tongue, iliciting the truth.

“How long?” I ask her, my eyes are stabbing hers and I’m demanding all of the answers she refused to give me before. I’m her fucking husband for gods sake and she still refused to tell me that she belonged to me once before.

Possibly forever.

“What?” She asks, her little voice trembles as I force her head to tilt to one side. I’m exposing the neck that belongs to me and I’m forcing my eyes to trace the lines so that they can rememberrememberremember.

“Eighth year,” I force the words out of my lips as my mind struggles to stay on task. “How long?”

I watch her throat bob as she swallows. I watch as her lips mouth silent words before she finally spits them out. “Not long.” She shakes her head but winces when my hold on her hair tightens, forcing her to stay still.

“We only dated for a short period of time but you wanted me.” She rasps. “You wanted me and you had me for only a little while, and I—” She stops her rambling and presses her lips together and forces her eyes to close.

Granger’s eyes are shut but tears are pushing past her eyelids, clinging to her lashes before they fall onto my face. Like little drops of rain, they land on my face and I loosen my grip on her hair and lift my other hand to her chin, gently pinching it between my fingers as I study her face.

Yes, I can see it now.

There, between her lips and her eyelids, it’s there. She tried to occlude it all away but she failed. Because it’s all here for plain sight.

“You loved me.” My words tickle her lips and she nods, fervently. And she’s been in pain. Her heart was broken by the same boy who she was forced to marry.

And, she was right all along. This thing between us, this marriage? It is not going, at all, like I thought it would.

It’s so much worse.

[nicole-alt-delete]

It was a hot summer day in Hawkins and the kids had dragged them into helping with some game once again. Eddie was more than thrilled to help, Robin had managed to escape with Nancy on a "supply run" and Steve was currently taking orders from Max, the only one of them who'd remembered to say please.

Eddie wasn't really sure what the end goal was but it seemed like they were one step away from LARPing- just changed the name so Max and El would still play. He was helping Will by carving this big fuck-all stick into a cane for him when the gravel behind him crunched under someone's feet, and a second later Steve was saying "Hey, I'm borrowing this- Thanks-" Not stopping for the answer before Eddie felt a tug at his back pocket.

He instantly whipped around, spluttering, "Absolutely not-"  and before Steve could even take a step he was fiercely gripping his black bandana taut between them like the world's saddest game of tug of war. Steve loosened his grip a little, making a point of not tugging on it or ripping it, just looking confused as he waited for an explanation.

Eddie blushed for a moment, realizing the position he'd put himself in, how protective he got over a little piece of fabric. He stammers for a second, "I- you can't just- I need that man,"

Steve quirks an eyebrow at him, clueless. "What do you mean you need it? It's been in your pocket every day and I've only seen you actually wear it once. C'mon just for today- the girls don't have any hair ties and I need to put my hair up, it's killing me,"

He sighs a little, fully aware there's nothing reasonable he could say to Steve here. He very much cannot tell him that he *needs* it just in case some hot guy walks by and happens to know what it means. That's ridiculous- especially when the guy he most wants to see it is the one tugging it away from him in the first place. Steve has no idea what it means and Eddie doesn't expect him to but it still drives him insane thinking that it could happen.

Alternatively, the idea of Steve putting his hair back with Eddie's bandana drives him a little insane too.

So he blushes, sighs, and lets go of it. Points at Steve firmly, "You better give that back Harrington, or I swear-"

Steve smiles and starts walking backwards with it, already rolling it up into a hairband as he cuts him off, "Yeah, I know Eds, you can hold it against me forever, promise,"

He runs off back to the other kids and Eddie shakes his head at him, flustered and annoyed, and forgetting himself until Will clears his throat behind him.

He doesn't say anything but he's smiling and making this little face as he looks away from Eddie, like he knows something.

"So uh. The stick?"

"Right- yes- stick- cane- it's a cane for a mighty wizard, let's go,"

--

He didn't think he'd notice it so much, but the empty feeling in his pocket is driving him crazy. He'd been wearing that stupid thing since he learned it was a thing people do- a stolen trip up to the city on a bus he snuck onto, a weekend as a runaway before he sucked it up and went back home.

Someone had called him queer and he turned expecting a fight only to see a group of freaks who stood out more than himself. They had smiled and asking him why he was all alone, and been worried. One wanted to make sure Eddie hadn't been kicked out. Another wrapped her scarf around him, and before he knew it he was in the back of a gay bar with people he'd never met and felt like he could tell anything to.

The idea of proudly wearing something that singled him out- but only to the right people- made his hart light up. It was like a new language, like thieves' cant, something secret and magic.

He'd spent hours asking about colors and being confused and rightfully embarrassed by more than a few of the answers. Some sounded better than others, some made his face flush. At the end of the day he felt better than he had in ages and he had the courage to go back home to Wayne.

Before he got back on a bus he stopped into a second hand shop and grabbed the first black bandana he could find. He debated the whole ride home which side to put it on. When he walked back up to the trailer door ready to apologize, it hung proudly out of his back left.

--

Eddie had let Steve wear it home and it was killing him, but they had stayed out late and he half forgot anyways, and Steve's hair did look pretty cute pushed back like that. Steve had promised to give it back anyways, and Eddie trusted him fully.

He just also really, really, really wanted it back as soon as possible.

So for once he got up before noon (barely- just after eleven,)  and made his way to Family Video and hopped Steve had left it in his car or something so that he could get it back then and there.

What he wasn't expecting was to walk in and see Steve bent over behind the counter with the damn thing hanging out of his right pocket, as if he had any goddamn idea what that meant.

Eddie nearly had a heart attack and was thankful the store was empty like it always was so he could sprint over, jump the counter and yank the thing out of his pocket immediately.

"What do you think you're doing wearing it like that?!"

Steve had barely registered the jingle from the door, let alone Eddie launching himself at him, and was thoroughly surprised to say the least, nearly knocking over a display as he reacted.

"Hey!  Jesus man- you can't be- what's the big deal??? That's exactly how you wear it all the time- I was just keeping it safe til I saw you again,"

He stared at Eddie properly confused, a little on guard still from how suddenly he had leapt over and how worked up he seemed.

Eddie took a deep breath and sighed, folding the bandana up in his hands and just holding it for a moment, debating what to tell Steve.

After a second Steve makes this little head movement like 'well? go on?' clearly waiting for an explanation and Eddie rolls his eyes and sighs.

"It's- Look, Stevie, you can't wear it like that, you're not- I mean it's. It's like- a symbol, okay?"

Steve leans on the counter and frowns, confused.

"A symbol?"

"Yes- yeah, like- like those little cross necklaces moms wear or Dustin's star wars shirts. They're symbols....for the same kind of people to pick up on,"

He struggles with the words, trying hard to insinuate just enough without giving it all away, still hesitantly afraid of Steve's reaction.

But Steve just looks thoughtful. Nodding a little, putting a finger to his lip as the gears turn.

"So- okay, what's it symbolize then?"

He'd been hoping Steve wouldn't make it that far.

"It's- uh. It's really not..."

Steve stares, "Man I'm not gonna judge you- just- why's it such a big deal that I can't wear it like that too?"

Eddie can't help but laugh, "If anyone who knows what it means saw YOU with it- you would- no, you'd set yourself on fire I'm sure of it,"

He shakes his head, holding the bandana tighter in his fists.

Steve only frowns though, "Eds, what's it mean? If you don't tell me I'll just get my own and wear it until someone else does,"

Eddie looks mildly terrified by the idea but laughs at it all the same. "No- No, god do not do that Harrington-"

"Then tell me,"

"I can't, it's really-"

"Eddie, I'm gonna steal it back,"

And he does, reaches for the bandana in his hands as Eddie pulls away, the two of them starting to bicker and wrestle for it, each equally stubborn until the point that Steve actually does manage to grab it.

The tension gets to him and Eddie can't help it anymore, he just blurts, "It means I'm gay, Steve!"

It makes Steve pause and Eddie uses the moment to grab it back and quickly shove it in his back pocket again, blushing furiously and hoping Steve doesn't take it too badly.

Steve's mouth opens a little to say something in response, but the door jingles and his head snaps to it, Eddie instantly hitting the floor because he's still behind the counter where he most certainly should not be.

A man comes in and asks where the new releases are and Steve happily helps him, leaving Eddie plenty of time to crawl out from behind the counter and sneak out. He almost gets away with it too, but the door opens again, jingles and Steve twists his head.

"Eddie, wait- We're not done- I'll talk to you about this later!"

Eddie doesn't look back at him as he runs out the door past Robin who had been bringing lunch back for her and Steve. She tries to greet him but he just blurts "Gotta go, Buckley," and darts past.

If he'd looked back he would have noticed how red Steve's face was. Part 2

[fbfh]

Had to take this to the professional 🫡

We need more dad tony stark content (literally anything you got)

Literally starving

Thank you 😌

thank you for giving me more excuses to talk about this. Tony is such a good fucking dad in general, but he's especially great when you get sick. if you're in new york, he probably notices cause you're not up as early as usual. idk where this came from, but I can hear him clear as day walking into your room and smoothing your hair to wake you up, saying

"Hey pumpkin, sun's out." you only grunt in response, but it's not your usual sassy I don't wanna wake up grunt. It sounds softer, like you actually can't get up yet.

"You feeling okay?" before you can answer, he's totally on it. "jarvis, run a vital scan."

He rolls you over onto your back so he can look at you. you look... pale. you don't have the usual vibrance to your skin, it's gray and faded. you look like if you weren't lying down, you'd pass out. Your eyes are puffy and watery, your lips are chapped. You're not yourself. While Jarvis runs a diagnostic scan on your vitals, Tony also gets to work. he carefully sticks a microneedling patch on your arm to check your blood - something Strange helped him whip up, among many other ways to monitor your health without all that clunky invasive hospital equipment - as Jarvis gives him the low down.

"Elevated body temperature of 101.3 degrees fahrenheit, swelling of the sinuses, elevated white blood count..." Jarvis rambles on and on while describing your simptoms, only interrupted by an agressive coughing fit.

"And a rather nasty productive cough."

You look up at him and try not to get teary, you know crying will just make you feel more dehydrated and achy.

"Dad... I don't feel good..."

He looks down at you so warmly, and with so much love.

"I know, kid."

He stands up, determined to do everything he can to kick this cold in record time.

"Alright, your schedule for the week is cleared." He cuts you off as you object. "Ah-bup-bup-bup. I don't want to hear it. You are officially on bedrest until further notice. Jarvis, order out for some of that soup we like, some cough drops, and popsicles."

He looks down at you.

"You want ice cream? What am I saying, of course you want ice cream. Jarvis, throw in a few pints of Stark raving hazelnuts and bunny tracks."

He grabs the remote for your tv, putting on your favorite movie and has dum-e wheel you in a box of tissues. He grabs some vaseline and cold medicine, along with a fresh cold water and your favorite flavor of sports drink.

"Now. I want you to lay back, I want you to stay cool, and I want you to get some rest. And you're a Stark, so staying cool should be no problem." He gives you a kiss on the forehead, then stands up to move all his work to stuff he can do at home, and tell Pepper to cancel or reschedule the rest so he can spend the rest of the day watching movies and tv shows with you between naps. You can hear him muttering to himself as he calls Steven over to come check on you. If you weren't so tired, you'd find it funny that the only person your dad trusts to be your family doctor is also a wizard.

"Can stop aliens from invading earth, I can make an arc reactor that can fit in the palm of my hand, how have we not cracked this cold and flu season thing yet?" he mutters, making a mental note to discuss it with the rest of the Avengers at the next team meeting. you drift off to sleep feeling a lot better than you did when you woke up, and thinking about debrief folders titled Avengers v. Rhinovirus.

[starlightsuffered]

we need a new fic pls🙏🏼 (only if u can)

One More Night

Info - Slytherin and Gryffindor, some intoxication, mentions of sex, toxic couple, polar opposites, song fic, one night stand, lust, mention of drugs, a little bit dub con language, blood purist regulus, dry humping

One hand gripped the curls at the nape of my neck, the other pulled hard on my tie. I was gasping into the kiss. It took so much to get this desire to build in me normally, but just a makeout with her started an inferno inside me.

“I should go,” I breathed.

“Then go,” she said with an almost cruel tone. I let out a needy pant. She smirked as she felt the wild racing of my heart when she pressed her bosom against my chest,

“Y/n,” I said the hallowed name through nips and laps of her lips.

I couldn’t leave her. I couldn’t pull myself away. I tried to remember the guilt I felt every time just after we’d stopped touching. It seemed less palpable. I couldn’t picture it. It was just like every other fucking time.

I used to be a good student, a prefect, quidditch captain. I was respectable and nonchalant to a point it bothered others. Now I was like an addict. I didn’t think of anything but her body and allure.

“Is your-“ she cut off the question by grinding her crotch against me. I knew she wore no panties and the dress was so thin I could practically feel her slick.

I imagined slipping my cock into her velvety wet folds. A full body shiver overwhelmed me. My hands were on her ass. I was barely resisting anymore. My body couldn’t tell her no.

“Is your lipstick laced with something?” I finally got out the weak query. I wished she’d say yes. I wish I had some fucking excuse for how many times I went back to her. I wish I could blame enchantment for my all consuming desire for her.

“No,” she said in a smug voice that made my dick even harder. She completely knew the affect she had on me. She loved it. And though I shouldn’t, I loved it too.

Dysfunctional didn’t begin to cover us. Gryffindor and Slytherin was only the beginning. She was muggle born and would ruin my reputation. She was a party girl, who dabbled in dangerous wizarding drugs and had no care for her own well being. I was the stoic head boy who never went to parties and had each step of my future planned out. I could have never planned for her.

One party, I’d gone to one bloody Slytherin party. She’d been let in due to the illicit items she carried on her. She hadn’t even knows who I was. She didn’t know how I’d stared all night. She didn’t know my hands, my skin, my breath, my cock, all longed to be hers. It was like metal trying to resist a magnet and I’d broken eventually.

I’d felt stupid the morning after. No protection. No safety spell. It had all been raw and electric and so pleasurable I’d felt as though I could pass out. I’d been stupid enough to tell her I was a prefect and I’d be telling the headmaster what sort of things she brought to parties. We’d been nearly at each others throats, moments away from hexing one another. Somehow it’d turned into me bouncing her on my cock as she bit into my shoulder so hard it bled.

“You coming to mine?” She asked. She had the audacity to question me as she reached into my pants and fondled my aching cock. It was probably purple with need at the moment. Only she made it that way. She made me feel like a cheap whore with how fast I began to harden for her.

“No,” I breathed. It was the right thing to do. I was going to do the right thing this time.

“Alright then,” she said instantly. She stepped back and I felt my skin had been stripped away. I was left breathless, raw, sensitive, and vulnerable.

She stood there looking like a wet dream. Her hair was tousled, lips swollen where I’d bit them. Dark marks were blooming on her honey sweet skin where I’d sucked. Her dress was hitched up. I noticed a dribble of arousal making its way down her thigh. I could have exploded in my pants.

“Goodbye then Regulus,” she purred. Her eyes were dark with promise of the most erotic pleasures.

“One more night,” I said weakly. I went to her, to my forbidden fruit. I wouldn’t be satisfied until I’d devoured it all again.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming

[shyamanuensis]

The Hit List - HL Smut.

Yep - we're going there. MC (Katie Greene) needs to let laid to get off some stress and steam and there's an unhealthy amount of young horny wizards around the castle a little too eager to help her out. Unhinged and unplanned. Enjoy xo

Girls in the courtyard – Katie’s POV

“You need to get fucking laid.”

The corner of the Transfiguration courtyard we’re huddled in goes silent. Not like when you’ve made a bad joke silent – no this is the kind of silence where everyone falls into agreeance with what’s just been said, and you’ve got no smartass response ready in your arsenal to try and save yourself. There’s a knowing glance exchanged amongst the girls huddled around me and by the smirk I notice on Imelda’s face, it’s clear that she meant what she said ‘literally’.

“I don’t. I’m just stressed with exams – that’s all.”

I feel the burn pierce through me brought on by Poppy and Natty rolling their eyes. My skin is hot – like a fever I just can’t sweat out. The smirks on their faces grow to mimic the expression Imelda’s still sporting and the only option my body has to retaliate is to sigh. As I’m chewing the inside of my cheek to buy my brain a half minute to fully take in what the rest of them are all thinking, Samantha pipes up with a question.

“When was the last time you got laid?”

“Probably never. There are first years I know who get more action than Katie does.” Imelda’s words aren’t far from the truth, but I’ll be damned it I let her be right about this too. How did we even get to having this conversation you might ask? Typical school yard girl gossip. I literally just brought up the fact that I was stressed having learnt my grades had slipped in divination and the girls – as always, have to turn everything into something sexual. It seems impossible to go a day without an innuendo now that we’re in seventh-year. Looking back – the first-year versions of ourselves were abhorrently innocent and uncorrupted.

“I could get laid if I wanted to.” “Then do it.”

My retort is met with a challenge what Imelda just won’t let up on.

“But..” “But you don’t know where to start.”

I want to slap the smirk straight off her face but she’s quick, and again – has a point.

“So start small..”, Natty shrugs. For the most modest dressed girl in school her colourful sex life is a real juxtaposition of what I’m used to. “Yeah – start small”, Poppy agrees, “Just find someone to kiss - a little heavy petting. Then give a hand job to. Then blow. Then you know… make a hit list.”

A hit list? God no.

“Yeah – a hit list. Fuck Poppy, so smart girl - I could kiss you.” Imelda wraps her arms around the shorter Hufflepuff and teasingly pretends to move in for a snog. “Pick 5 guys and work your way up from kissing to fucking.”

The idea is absolutely insane.

“And where am I going to find 5 guys to agree to this?” “Um hello… the castles a walking cesspool pack of needy horny wizards who would do just about anything to get with a virgin..”

Kicking my shoes at the ground, wanting to dig a hole big enough to swallow me; I reluctantly agree. Having sex before graduation wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. I look around at Imelda, Natty, Poppy and Samantha who are eagerly awaiting an answer from me.

“…fine. If it helps with reducing stress, I’ll make a hit list.” “That’s a girl”, Samantha growls with a wink before spanking me. “…babies first hit list.”

“So… kiss, heavy petting, hand job, blow job, full deal…”, Poppy lists, “Who’s first on your list?”

“Um…”, I murmur to myself and bite my lip. “I’m thinking…”

Boys by the quidditch pitch – Garreth’s POV

“KATIE GREENE’S GETTING FUCKING LAAAAIIIIDDD!”

The announcement comes out a little too excited but I can tell by the looks on everyone’s face it was the last thing they expected to hear from me.

“What? By who?”

I scoff and shove Leander out of the way so that I can join the circle the boys have made and run my hand through my hair while wearing shit eating grin; self-righteous on the news I’ve just managed to overhear.

“Fuck off – there’s no way she’s sleeping with you.”

Sebastian’s words are quick to fire out and I place a hand over my heart, dramatically weeping as I drag a fake tear from my eye.

“And you think you’re a better option Sallow.” “Well clearly!”

The clear hype and excitement that’s followed my revelation is instantly wiped out the moment Ominis throws his two cents in.

“First off – she’s a lady. Secondly – how do you even know this?” “She mentioned it in the transfig courtyard...” “You mean you were eavesdropping?” “Look Gaunt - the girls were having pretty open conversation.” “You’re a lascivious fool.”

He has a point. I mean, if it’s got legs and it’s willing….

“Rewind here”, Everett snaps, fingers winding in a circle before he points them to shoot straight at me. “Katie Greene – The Katie Greene… wants to get laid.” “She’s making a hit list.”

The last two words I say are enough start the ruckus back up.

“Fuck me”, Sebastian chokes out, “Never thought I’d live to see the day she willingly became a little minx.” “Wait.. what’s a hit list involve?”

We turn to stare blankly at Leander who’s clearly behind in the conversation.

“Kiss, heavy petting, hand job, blow job, full finale!”

My clarification on the term seems to have turned his brain to mush.

“But this is the best bit”, I add, straightening my posture in front of the lads, “… she doesn’t know that we know. So – we could have a little fun influencing this.”

When the realisation hits the lot of them; there’s a self-ego stroke that grips onto us all just right.

Rosie Greene – just wait and see what we’ve all got install for you.

[padfootagain]

Black Dog Neighbour

Hi everyone ! Today, we’re answering a request made for my 6k followers event by @nobodyshomearchive : “hi hello lovely xxi have been hooked to your blog lately, and to say that is an understatement in all honesty. congratulations on 6k followers <33 so for your celebration can i get an enemies to lovers (ouh massive surprise 👀) with sirius black (preferably post azkaban but it's okay if you don't want to!) cause i'm literally so head over heels for that man. and i'm loving your something good series :) again, congrats and feel free to ignore the request if you don't feel like writing it/it doesn't hit your creative spot.

have a great day/night hun <;3”

Thank you so much for your request, and I hope you like this! I didn’t do post-azkaban Sirius, because he doesn’t exist in my brain. I have been in denial for so long, the Potters are living their best lives, didn’t you know?!

Anyway, still went for post-Hogwarts and post-war Sirius, simply didn’t include anything referencing to Azkaban or… anything canon compliant, to be fair. But as per usual for me when it comes to this character…

Hope you like this! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warnings: A small warning for an ex being an arse and showing up drunk on your doorstep (there’s nothing violent, but you do physically push him away, so heads up on that, just in case). But the rest’s cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute!!!

Summary: God, you hate that guy next door. Bloody annoying neighbour with his noisy motorcycle, his loud friends, his annoying laugh, his charming smile, his amazing hair, his effortless way to sport sexy leather jackets. He’s insufferable, you hate him to bits. The fact that he’s a talented wizard who can magically change into a dog to guard your door when your ex comes bothering you again will not change your first impression in the slightest, by the way. You still hate him to guts. Probably…

Word count: 4592

Sirius Black Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Sirius fucking Black.

Your neighbour, aka worst enemy, aka the person you despise the most on earth.

He is loud. He is annoyingly pretty. He is getting on your fucking nerves... again!

Of course, it is Friday night, which means that his stupid friends are over for a “boys’ night”. What a scam…

In consequence, you are currently casting sound-proofing spells all over your walls in an attempt to shush their idiotic laughs. And especially Sirius’s; his unmistakable bark-like laughter, loud and boisterous and absolutely prone to draw a grin from your face even if you don’t mean to. By Agrippa’s hat, you will soon either cut his throat or call for an auror. Or maybe you could burst into his apartment and shout into his face just so he can see how bloody annoying that is. Or kissing him to shut him up sounds like a plan, too…

You shake your head, grinning at your own genius idea. Sirius and his friends are being rudely loud again, when you have already told them a thousand times – which is to say every Friday for the last six months, since Sirius moved in the apartment next to yours – that the walls in this old building of Diagon Alley are too thin, that you can hear everything going on in Sirius’s apartment despite sound-proofing spells… and that they need to keep it down past 11pm because you have work the next day. The absolute dread of working in retails does not, by any means, spare the Wizards and Witches of this world…

You look through your apartment for the object that would make the most noise. You give a few items a try, but settle for the good old pan and spoon. Ha, what precious allies these two are, never failing you.

You add a little spell to amplify sounds – just for good measure – find some earplugs, and then proceed to bang the shit out of that pan, right by your common wall with Sirius’s apartment.

It goes on for five full minutes before you manage to catch the quietened sound of something against your door…

And sure enough, when you stop and take your earplugs out, someone is banging at your door.

“Y/N!” a voice that you easily recognize shouts. “STOP THIS FUCKING NOISE!”

You open the door wide, and have to bend to the side to avoid Sirius’s fist as it misses the door.

“Merlin! Sorry! You’re okay? I didn’t touch you, right?” Sirius asks with anger instantly replaced with worry.

“I have amazing reflexes.”

And anger is back into his dark grey eyes again...

“What the fuck are you doing in there?! Are you mental?!”

“I don’t know, Sirius. I didn’t notice anything over the cacophony of your friends shouting into my ears all night!”

His jaw clenches, and you hate yourself for noticing the trembling of the muscle there, and finding it terribly attractive…

“And you had to make all this ruckus instead of simply walking three meters to my door and nicely ask us to shut our mouths because…?”

“Because I’ve asked you dozens of times, this has been going on for fucking months, Sirius!”

He rolls his eyes, and Merlin do you want to punch him straight across the jaw… his very sharp, very pretty jaw…

“We’re just having a nice evening…”

“And I am trying to sleep!”

“It’s barely midnight!”

“I work tomorrow, you asshole!”

“Ermm… guys?”

“WHAT?!” you both exclaim, turning to face a shy-looking Remus.

“Sorry about the noise, Y/N. We’ll be more careful next time. We’ll leave for the evening.”

“You don’t have to leave…” Sirius complains, but James is already walking out, helping a drunk Peter to cross the corridor.

“It’s late, anyway. Lily’s gonna worry, I was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago,” James argues, and Sirius has to yield.

“Alright, see you on Sunday, then!” he shoots his friends a grin, and the group waves at you.

You rudely ignore them, crossing your arms before your chest. And as Sirius turns back to you, his frown is icy and he quickly matches your stance.

“You’re such a pain in my ass, Y/N…”

“And you’re a jerk.”

“Asshole.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“You’re one to talk!”

“Oh, you talk plenty enough for both of us. And loudly so!”

Before he can reply, you’ve stepped back into your apartment and slammed the door.

You hear him pestering after you for a moment, then nothing, and finally a door slamming.

Well, that went well…

You are in trouble.

Big… huge trouble.

Your ex has just stepped into your shop, and you don’t know how to react.

You didn’t break up in a horrendous way, on the contrary! He wanted the two of you to remain friends, and you simply didn’t, worried that you wouldn’t be able to get over each other if you stayed in touch. And by the look he gave you as he stepped inside your shop ten minutes ago, and the many glances he’s thrown at you since, you’re pretty sure that you were right about this.

It's not like your relationship was terrible, by any means. Josh was nice, reliable, but also… not for you. You didn’t have much in common, at the end of the day, and if his personality and looks were nice, it was hard to build a lasting relationship on… nothing. It was for the best that you called it quits.

And as if your day needed any darkening, Sirius Black chooses this very moment to step into your shop. You don’t wait for him to aim for the counter to take out a large pouch in which you have gathered all the ingredients for his friend’s monthly brew. He smiles at the sight, moves towards you. And you hate yourself for the leap your heart makes as he comes closer.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi.”

It’s the first time you speak to each other since the ‘spoon and pan incident’, and you both hesitate. How are you supposed to act now? Apologise for being petty and kind of a dick? Ask for his apology for being a dick? Act like nothing happened?

“Thanks for Remus’s stuff,” Sirius says, voice quieter than usual, gentle, asking for a truce.

Outside, it’s snowing, winter claiming the streets of London, and there are little snowflakes caught in Sirius’s hair. It looks lovely.

All of a sudden, you’re longing for some eggnog, and some pumpkin pie.

His fingers are cold when they meet yours, tips brushing over your knuckles as he picks up the bag, and you hate your own heart for stammering.

“No problem. You know the drill,” you tentatively smile, while Sirius hands you some silvery Sickles.

“I would also need pearl dust, please. Here’s the amount.”

He hands you a parchment with quantities written on it, four small packages to be prepared separately.

“How many hearts do you intend to break with so many love potions?” you joke, turning around to get to work.

The brass scale is set on a small table, pushed right against the wall, behind the counter. It is an easy task for a professional like you, measuring quickly while Sirius laughs.

“No one, thankfully,” he replied.

“Oh… some Amortentia, perhaps? Trying to figure out who your crush likes?”

“No… nothing like that. It’s the properties for invisibility that I’m looking for.”

“If you plan on breaking into Gringotts, I don’t want to know.”

Again, a loud laugh. And you wish you could hold back your smile, but you can’t, the sound is too infectious for that.

You’ve forgotten that your ex is here, you’re reminded of his presence only when you turn back towards Sirius and he’s standing right behind your tall neighbour, a bag of potion ingredients in his hands.

You avert your eyes, and Sirius frowns at the sight. He glances over his shoulder, spots your ex, but says nothing. You only notice how he tightens his hold on the pouch.

“Pearl dust’s quite expensive,” you tell him, handing him the phials, before announcing the price.

“That’s alright.”

He hands you the galleons, takes the vials, but doesn’t step away just yet.

“You… you’re okay?” he asks, and you’re not sure what to do with his expression. It’s somewhere between annoyance and genuine concern.

“Yeah, sure.”

He nods, like he’s disappointed. He’s not bringing up The Incident, and so you won’t either.

“Right, good day.”

He turns in a hurry, not waiting for your answer, but you notice the way he throws a look back before stepping out into the street, snow falling over his dark coat and dark hair again. You hate how your eyes linger on his frame until he’s out of sight, walking down the busy street, but you can’t help it…

“Hello, Y/N.”

You’re brought back to Earth as your ex speaks, and you turn to him, your smile turning from genuine to polite.

“Hi, Josh.”

“How are you?”

“Good! Do you need anything else?” you ask, pointing at the ingredients he’s put on the counter.

“Huh… no, nothing else.”

“That makes two Galleons, 5 Sickles and 3 Knuts, please.”

He hands you some money, and you hand him his change. You see him hesitating, before diving.

“Look, I… I came here hoping to see you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I… I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about what happened, and… Look, I know I could have done better when it came to us. And I thought… perhaps… if you were willing to give me another chance…”

“Josh…”

“Just… hear me out...”

“No. I’m sorry, but no. We… we were not compatible, that’s all. I like you, you’re nice, but… It won’t work between us.”

Slowly, he nodded, apparently defeated. And when another client cleared their throat behind him, he finally left.

What a mess of a morning…

It is Friday night, and the Marauders are keeping it down. You are surprised by it, but you can only praise these men for being, for once, well-behaved. 11:30, as you slip under the covers, ready for some well-deserved rest before waking up too early to open the shop in the morning. You are ready to fall into Morpheus’s arms and abandon yourself to slumber when someone knocks on your door.

You ignore the sound for a while, but it starts again, and again…

And you thought Sirius was making some efforts. You were ready to commit murder…

You stand up, grab a bathrobe and walk to the door, ready to throw hands with Sirius at this point. Only… only, when you actually open the door, it’s not Sirius who’s facing your wrath.

It’s Josh.

“What… What are you doing here?” you ask, too stunned to think about being polite. “It’s almost midnight.”

But then he looks up at you, and you notice at once that he’s been drinking. His eyes are glimmering, he sways slightly before finding back his balance…

“Josh…”

“Y/N, I… I know that now is not the time, but… please, give me another chance. Please…”

“Josh, we’ve talked about this. Us… it’s over. We’re not getting back together. I’m sorry.”

“But I can try and be better. I’ll be better, let me show you.”

You push him off when he staggers forward, trying to hold you.

“Josh! Stop it!” you raise your voice, trying to get him to let go.

“Please…”

“I said no! Get off!”

He’s finally letting go, but doesn’t take a step back. Instead, he leans against your doorframe, not stepping inside, but making it impossible for you to simply go back in and close the door.

“Josh! Go away! I’m sorry, but this is over between us. You have to leave me alone!”

“But I don’t want to! Y/N!”

“Hey!”

You’re both distracted by the new voice that comes shouting through the corridor. Sirius is standing before his front door, wearing a Queen t-shirt and some dark sweatpants, in what you guess his is nightly outfit. Still, when he comes nearer, hair tied in a bun, glowering, he looks intimidating, tattoos all over his arms on full display, traces of ink peeking above the collar of his t-shirt.

You think for a second that he’s going to make a scene because of how noisy you are right now, not ironic at all given his habits of messing your sleeping schedule, and you’re ready to get angry at him, because this truly is the last thing you need tonight, when…

“You leave her the fuck alone!”

You’re too stunned to react when Sirius comes to stand right by your side.

“She told you to fuck off, so you fuck off!”

“Who the fuck are you?” Josh replied, words a little slurred.

“Her boyfriend,” Sirius lies, but it works wonders, as Josh becomes suddenly very pale. “Now, you fuck off, or I’ll throw you out of the building.”

“You? With him?” Josh asks as he turns to you, and you feel pity for the pain in his eyes, but you don’t regret leaving him.

“Yeah. He’s my boyfriend. Now, please, Josh… leave me alone.”

But he shakes his head.

“I can’t. I can’t. I still love you…”

Sirius looks at you, but you shake your head.

“You have to leave me alone and move on.”

“No… I… I’ll come back later…”

Sirius notices your worry, it almost looks like fear, and he doesn’t hesitate when he grabs Josh by the collar.

“You listen to me now, dickhead,” Sirius growls, it’s almost animalistic, and you’re frozen by this threatening tone of his. “If you set a foot in this building again, if you go see her at her shop, if you so much as breathe in her direction or step in the street she’s in, I will come for you, and I will make sure you can never bother her again. Do you get that?”

“You’re bluffing.”

Sirius grins, something twisted and terribly dark, and even you shiver when he speaks again, voice low and terrible.

“I fought for the Order during the war. I’m a Black. Trust me, you don’t want to fuck with me.”

Slowly, Josh nods, struggling to swallow.

“So… will you leave her alone?”

Again, Josh nods.

“Good boy. Now get the fuck out of here.”

He’s barely released Josh that he’s sprinting down the stairs, stumbling and catching himself against the wall, before disappearing.

But you don’t see that. You’re staring at Sirius, and seem unable to look away.

“You’re alright?”

You’re startled by the softness Sirius’s voice is now wearing, such a stark contrast with the threatening tone he wore a minute ago.

“Y/N? You’re okay? He didn’t hurt you, right?”

“What? No… no, I’m fine! He just… showed up and I couldn’t get rid of him.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as he gets closer.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, just… a little shaken, I think.”

Slowly, Sirius nods.

“Hey, no need to worry, okay? I’ll keep an eye out tonight. He won’t bother you again. And if he does, in the coming days or weeks, and I’m not around, then you come and tell me. I’ll give him a good fright, and he’ll leave you alone.”

“Thanks but… why would you do that for me? You hate me.”

Sirius chuckles at that, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t hate you. You’re annoying, but I don’t hate you.”

“Oh…”

His touch is infinitely gentle when he rests his hand on your arm.

“You can go back to sleep. Don’t worry, he won’t bother you again tonight. I promise.”

Slowly, you nod, a little too stunned to complain or argue or discuss what has just happened. Instead, you walk back to your apartment, lock the door, and go back to bed, thinking about the way Sirius’s hands looked gentle without his rings…

You’re in a hurry this morning. Your brain has not finished to process everything that has happened last night, but this will have to wait. You must rush to the shop, and you can’t find your bloody wand…

Ha! There! What is it doing under the couch? Never mind, you need to hurry, and you need to hurry now!

Only, when you open the front door, you almost trip onto a large black door sleeping on your threshold. A huge black dog, as a matter of fact.

“What in Merlin’s beard…?!”

His ears perk up at the sound of your voice, and he looks up at you with dark grey eyes that remind you of someone…

But it’s impossible, of course. That must be his dog, though. Since when does Sirius has a dog though?!

The animal slowly stands, a real giant, all dark fur and intimidating growls, until he’s shaken some sleep off its frame, and then he looks up at you, as if expecting a command.

“Hi,” you say, feeling foolish, but finding nothing better to say.

The dog merely comes closer, slowly, ears down in submission, as if he’s worried to scare you away. You hold out your hand, and he hurries to rub his snout into it, licking your fingers.

You giggle at the sensation.

“You look intimidating, but you’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

He barks in agreement, and you give him scratches as a reward.

“Who do you belong to, huh? Are you Sirius’s dog?”

The dog merely licks your fingers again.

“You look the part, at least. You fit the motorcycle-and-leather-jackets aesthetic.”

A few scratches more, and you finally remember that you are running late…

“Shoot!”

You lock the door, hurry towards the stairs. But you stop the dog when he tries to follow.

“No, no, no! I’m going to work, you stay here. I’m sure Sirius will be back soon. You stay here.”

The dog blinks, but sits anyway, letting you go.

For the whole trip to the store, you wonder who this dog belongs to, and who would let him sleep outside like this. If he really did belong to Sirius, he would hear about this…

Your day is a weird one.

After arriving almost late, but not quite, you spend your morning being busy and running around the store looking for the right ingredients for various potions and clients. And yet, several times during your shift, you feel someone looking at you.

The first time, it’s Sirius, who’s squinting on the other side of the glass door. He looks away the second your eyes land on him, and you’re almost certain that he blushes, although you didn’t think it to be possible to make Sirius Black blush.

The second time, it’s the black dog again, who remains sitting by the door under the falling snow for about ten minutes before leaving.

The third time, it’s the dog again, you see him being petted by a customer as she walks out of the shop.

But if the dog belongs to Sirius, then you guess that he’s been around several times throughout the day, which seems odd. Also, you want to chastise him for leaving the animal alone in the cold for extended periods of time throughout the day. Is he heartless?!

So, as you go home that night, you leave your coat in your apartment before heading to Sirius’s.

He answers on the second knock.

“Oh! Hi, Y/N!” he grins a welcome at you. “Need anything?”

“Yeah… I wanted to talk to you, if you have a minute.”

He merely nods, moving to let you inside.

You’ve been here a couple of times before, but you still appreciate the warm atmosphere of the large space that forms his living room. A huge Gryffindor flag is hung across the wall on the right, while windows let you see falling snow over the roofs of Diagon Alley on the opposite side of the room. A large chimney surrounded by comfortable armchairs and sofas, along with a soft red carpet seem to call for you.

“So? What can I do for you, Y/N?”

You turn to him again while he points at the sofa, silently inviting you to sit, but you remain standing. You cross your arms, and he frowns at the sight.

“Where’s your dog?”

Your tone is sharper now, and his frown only deepens, brows knitted together.

“My what?”

“Your dog. Huge. Black. Looks like he could bite my throat off.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“Really? He’s been following me around all day. He was on my threshold this morning…”

“…Y/N…” he tries to interrupt you, but you don’t let him.

“No! Listen… Thank you for what you did last night. I was really… Thank you. Josh wouldn’t leave and you were most definitely helpful. But let’s be clear, I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself! I don’t need your protection or anything, got it?”

You wonder why he’s smiling now, but he is all the same.

“Got it. Was just trying to be helpful.”

“You were.”

“Good.”

“Good. But your good action doesn’t mean that I’m going to accept any harm coming to this cute dog of yours!”

“I thought he wanted to bite your throat off.”

“He looked like he could. He was pretty sweet, though.”

“Hmmm…”

“Anyway… what’s wrong with you!? Leaving him outside all night and then in the street while it was snowing!?”

“Y/N, relax. I don’t have a dog, let me explain.”

“Then whose dog is it? Cause we have to find his owner, I’m going to throw hands!”

Sirius laughs, his usual, bark-like laugh, and your puzzled by the sound. It resembles a bark even more than usual.

Sirius heaves a sigh, shakes his head, apparently hesitating, but eventually, he takes a step closer.

“You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this.”

“Why?”

“Because if you do, I might be arrested.”

Your eyes grow round.

Oh dear… the…

“…Potion. The potion! You’ve done something illegal with it!”

Sirius laughs again.

“The pearl dust you mean? It’s just a trick for my godson, for Christmas. How do you think the presents get under the tree without anyone carrying them in? The fellow is a rascal, standing watch all night to catch Santa red-handed. We need to get more and more creative each year. No, don’t worry, it’s nothing like that.”

“Oh… but then… what are you talking about?”

“Do you promise that you won’t tell?”

“Have you killed someone?”

“Of course not!”

“I don’t know, you were pretty… scary last night.”

“Did I scare you?”

“No… but Josh was ready to faint.”

He laughs again at that.

“I haven’t harmed anyone.”

“Okay… then, I promise.”

Sirius hesitates some more, before warning you not to freak out. You don’t have time to question him though, he’s already transforming into…

“… the black dog!”

You gasp at the sight, but you don’t back away when Sirius approaches under his animagus form. Instead, you reach out for him, giving him a few scratches between his ears, making him wiggle his tail happily.

“Oh wow… you’re an animagus! This is beautiful…”

He laughs as he changes back into human, the sound still somewhere close to a growl.

“Am I a good boy, then?” he teases, making you laugh. “No need to call for the animal welfare…”

“But… what were you doing around the shop today? And last night? Did you sleep on the porch?”

Sirius averts his eyes, and you have to double-check, but you’re certain that he is blushing right now.

“Ha, that… I didn’t mean to look like a creep or anything. But I… I was worried your ex would come back. Just wanted to check on you, ‘s all. I didn’t follow you around or anything! I just… went to check that you were alright at the shop a few times.”

“Why?”

He looks up at you with a slight frown, as if it is obvious, as if you’re stupid for not guessing.

“Because… I was worried about you.”

“About me?”

“Is it so surprising?”

“You hate me.”

“Again, I don’t hate you. You’re simply annoying the shit out of me. I like it, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

You blink, trying to make sense of all this, and Sirius looks at you with amusement.

“Is that why you were quiet last night? To not bother me?”

“Oh, the boys weren’t here. Busy week. We’ll be back at being insufferable next Friday.”

You roll your eyes at that, but Sirius laughs.

“I’m joking! I understand, okay? We’re too loud. We’ll keep it down from now on.”

“Right, okay…”

He bit his lip, ran a hand through his hair, in what you guess is shyness. God, you would have never thought to use this adjective to describe him. His rings catch the warm light of the fire burning in the hearth as he moves his fingers through his hair.

“Look, I… I’m sorry for the other night. Actually… for all the other nights. We’ll be more careful next time,” he says, and you raise an eyebrow in surprise.

You never thought you would hear an apology from him, even less so an earnest one, and yet…

“Thank you, Sirius. I’m sorry, too. It was petty and uncalled for.”

“No, you… you were right.”

He heaves a frustrated sigh, runs a hand through his long dark curls again, rebel strands falling before his eyes. You hold tightly onto the sleeve of your hoodie, refraining the sudden urge to push the curls away from his face, brush them behind his ear…

“Look, I… I don’t want us to be on bad terms,” Sirius goes on. “Could I make up for being a dickhead by buying you some fancy Christmas drink? My treat. As a token of good faith and a sign for peace in our building?”

He offers you his open palm, and you shake hands with a smile adorning both of your faces.

“Deal.”

“Any afternoon free this week?”

“Wednesday?”

“Then, I’ll buy you the fanciest cocoa I can find. And even some pumpkin pie, if you’re nice.”

“Sounds good.”

You’re reluctant to pull away but have to let go of his hand.

“Actually… scratch that,” Sirius shakes his head. “Would you go on a date with me?”

Your eyes grow round.

“A date? With you?”

“Yeah. On Wednesday?”

“But… with you?”

“Don’t act so surprised. You really think I play bodyguard for just anybody?”

You laugh at that, you can’t help it, even if you’re still quite stunned by the whole situation.

You weight your options, but then you look at him again, and the answer you want to give is obvious, even if he gets on your nerves all the bloody time…

“Okay. A date. On Wednesday.”

He grins, bright and infectious.

“Great! Awesome!”

“Great.”

“Great.”

You remain staring at each other for a moment, both of you trying to hide your excitement, until you finally clear your throat.

“I should…” you begin, pointing at the door.

“Sure… busy day?”

“You can’t imagine.”

“Hmm…”

You hurry towards the door, feeling overwhelmed by his nearness.

“See you on Wednesday then!” he calls after you as you reach for your own door.

“Sure! But it better be the best hot chocolate I’ve drunk, or I’ll ask for a refund!”

He laughs, and when you turn one last time towards him, Sirius is leaning against his doorframe, staring at you with a grin on his lips and mischief painted all over his features. He winks, and your heart skips several beats.

“Oh, don’t worry. You won’t regret this.”

*********************************

Taglist :

@reg-arcturus-black @hells-escapees @omgrachwrites

@wolfmoonmusic

[ivorylungs]

I put down my last unicorn au ideas before I forgot them if you, uh, wanna see them🫣

Hizashi meets Shouta while they’re both kids and Hizashi is still super new at magic.

Unicorn Shouta is injured and Hizashi takes care of him while he’s recovering and they bond during that time enough for the unicorn to consider him his friend.

But before Shouta can make a full recovery the red buII attacks them and Hizashi in his panic turns Shouta human to get the bull off his tail

They get separated while escaping.

Hizashi spends ages looking for Shouta. He didn’t just turn him human- he turned him into an injured human! Who knows what could happen to him out there all by himself!

Days, then weeks, then months go by with no luck. He grows up believing he led his friend to his death out in those woods.

—————————

Shouta did escape that day. He eventually stumbled his way onto a road where a farming couple found him. They take him in and clean him up and listen to his silly stories about being a unicorn, a scary red buII, and his wizard friend. They adore the imagination of the child.

As Shouta grows up he stops telling those stories he came up with as a kid. He’s not sure how he thought them up. Must have been in a book he read.

The farming couple, now parents, raise Shouta as their own and he grows into a fine young man, if you ask them.

Shouta decides that he wants to become a knight and with the (maybe reluctant) support of his parents he’s off to the kingdom for training.

——————————-

Hizashi had been summoned to speak with the king. It had been a little over a year since the last time, but fuck- this was the last thing he needed. He knew he would have to report his findings back eventually. The only problem was that he hadn’t come up with a good enough bullshit report to replace the real one with yet.

He wasn’t sure if the last unicorn the king was making him search for was Shouta or not, but he was going to find out even if it killed him.

Which it might, since he’s showing up empty handed again.

He walks through the halls like the powerful wizard he is (claims to be) with his head held high and his palms definitely not sweaty.

He stops before the throne of the king and bows his head. When he lifts it to speak, the words he had prepared get stuck in his throat. Standing next to the king, he’s pretty fucking sure, is Shouta in royal guard attire.

Sitting next to where (maybe) Shouta stands is prince Oboro. He seems to be trying to get Shouta’s attention for something. His antics get an exasperated huff out of Shouta that moves the hair off of his forehead just enough for Hizashi to see it.

The mark that appeared after Hizashi changed him that day. Where a horn would be if he were in his proper form.

He’s finally found Shouta, but in the worst possible place he could be and right before the king probably hangs him for his failures. Just great!

“Shouta?”

Ohhhhhhh he didn’t mean to say anything out loud! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfu-

The knight’s head whips around to look at him. Confusion clear on his face.

“Yamada-!” The king spits out. “You were not summoned here to speak to a knight. Where is my unicorn?”

“Your Majesty, please forgive my outburst. I- I have not yet found the unicorn, but-!” “Enough. You promised me years ago that you could deliver. I think I have been more than patient. However, all the resources and time have been wasted on you it would seem. All you’ve done is proven how useless a wizard you are.”

“I promise if I could just have a little more time-” Hizashi tries to reason.

“Guards, lock this fraud up immediately. I don’t want to see his face again”

Hizashi finds himself being dragged out of the throne room. His eyes meet Shouta’s as the doors shut behind him.

—-------------------------------------------------------

The guards are kind enough to bring him back to his old cell, where the king originally found him all those years back. Where he begged and promised his way out of it, embellishing his resume as a powerful wizard, specializing in researching and finding magical creatures.

He thought he had won the lottery back then, and if he was any good at what he did, he would still think that. Hizashi’s plan to use all the resources and knowledge the king had to offer to possibly find the unicorn he thought he had doomed back in those woods was a dream come true. He never trusted the king's motivations, but he also never planned on turning Shouta over to him if he found him. Hizashi robbed the world of its last unicorn. He was going to do whatever it took to give him back.

Hizashi is so busy wallowing in his sorrows on his cell floor that he doesn’t even notice the figure looming just past the bars.

“How do you know my name?-”

“HOLY FUCKING SH-!” Hizashi screams as he scrambles his way up. Hand on his chest as he tries to reel his heart back into it.

Shouta stands on the other side of his cell and Hizashi takes him in. He can’t believe it’s really him, after all this time. He’s alive. He’s alive and he- he’s hot? Not the time, Hizashi!

“Are you deaf? I asked-” Shouta begins to say Hizashi cuts him off.

“A little.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” Shouta’s anger deflates a little at that.

Hizashi waves it off, though. “No it’s ok, I have an enchantment that helps me out most of the time. It’s not perfect, but it gets the job done.”

“So you heard my question?” Right back to business. Alright then.

Hizashi tilts his head, thinking. He knows they both have grown quite a bit in the last… 15-ish years, but has Shouta really met that many loud blond wizards in that time?

“You really don’t remember me? I found you in the woods when we were kids and you were injured. You refused to leave the woods to go into town, where I could help you more, so I stayed there with you. I had to change you when the red bull attacked us and then we got seperated-”

“Change me? What does that mean? And I’ve never been attacked by any bulls in my life… Is this some kind of joke?”

He really doesn’t remember.

“Where did you grow up?” “On a farm a few hours south of the kingdom. I doubt you’ve been there so how do you know my name?” 

This isn’t right. Did changing him into a human make him forget everything about being a unicorn? Hizashi really fucked this up. Would it be wrong to change him back after he’s been living as a human for this long? Maybe he likes it better this way. Would Hizashi be robbing Shouta of a life he loves again? 

“Do you- are… are you happy?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Hizashi walks up to the bars and stands face to face with Shouta. They’re nearly the same height. It looks like whoever took Shouta in took care of him. He’s tall, well built, his hair looks beautiful, and even the stubble on his face suits him. Not that you can’t have all of that and still have grown up neglected. He just can’t get over that Shouta is here. He didn’t kill him and Shouta could possibly be thriving.

“Are you?" Hizashi tries again.

“Why won’t you just answer my question?” Shouta’s fuse noticeably grows shorter and shorter.

“Please, I need to know.” Hizashi is sure the desperation in his voice is confusing Shouta even more, but he really does need to know. Needs to know that he didn’t doom Shouta to years of misery.

“I - I guess I am? There’s not much I could complain about. I think I probably have it pretty good compared to a lot of people, even right outside these castle walls.”

“And have you made friends here?”

“They didn’t really give me much of a choice” Shouta says with a faint smile finally showing on his face.

“I’m so happy to hear that” Hizashi knows he’s got tears noticeably shining in his eyes, trying to fight their way out. 

Shouta seems to be stunned by the emotions this strange wizard is showing him. He opens his mouth, probably to continue his questioning, but is cut off by the dungeon door swinging open.

“Shouta! Did you get anything out of him yet?... Whoa! Did you make him cry?!”

“I didn’t do anything, he- he won’t give me a straight answer! Are all wizards this weird?”

Holy shit. Why was the prince down here?

“Nemuri is a witch, does that count?”

“I guess. Not looking good for your magical folk’s reputation…”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean??!” Hizashi finally chimes in. The disrespect!

The prince casually walks right to his cell and extends his hand to him.

“Yamada, right? It’s nice to finally formally meet the wizard my father has spent the last few years bitching my ear off about!” He says with somehow absolutely no malice.

Hizashi cautiously takes the offered hand to shake. “S-so sorry about that, your Highness! It was never my intention to-”

“No need to apologize. I’m really glad you never found the unicorn.”

“You what?” Hizashi must have missed something.

“My father is not a good man. I don’t know what his plans were for after he got his hands on it, but I doubt it was for anything good. I think you knew that too, though, right?”

“I mean- I-”

The prince shakes his head at him. “ It’s okay, really. I don’t think you even planned to hand over the unicorn if you did find it.”

“Oh my god, was I that obvious?!”

“Please. The king is so high on his own power that he probably never even considered you weren’t going to do exactly as he asked. Me on the other hand-” He puffs out his chest “ I know a good man when I see one!” The prince says rather proudly.

Shouta crosses his arms and stares Hizashi down. “I don’t know, I still don’t trust him” 

“Shouta, you never trust anyone.”

“Yeah, well, especially not this guy.”

The prince gives Hizashi a look and Hizashi is pretty sure he’s trying to convey some kind of message with it, but he has no idea what it could be. He then throws his arm over Shouta and laughs right into his ear. Shouta's face says he hates it, but his body language says otherwise. This is something they do often. Did he even get so lucky as to befriend a prince while living his life as a human?

Hizashi really does start to cry then.

It’s a lot. Some of the grief he’s been carrying all this time lifts and it might not be all of it, and he’s still stuck in a cell in a disgusting, smelly dungeon, but Hizashi can’t remember the last time he’s felt so light.

Shouta and the prince look at each other for an answer that neither has about this strange wizard.

“H-hey, man. It’s going to be ok, there’s no need to cry” the prince tries.

Hizashi starts to get control of his breathing again and wipes away some of the tears still falling down his face. “Yeah, haha I know” he says with a real smile he hasn’t used in some time.

The two on the other side of his cell don’t look convinced, but the prince seems to have come down here for more than just to check on his friend. He pulls out a set of keys and begins to unlock Hizashi’s cell door.

“I’ve actually been hoping you'd get the boot from my father. Took longer than I would like, but better late than never! Would you like to work for me instead, Hizashi?”

“Is offering jobs to people while imprisoned something that runs in the family?” That… wasn’t what Hizashi meant to say.

The prince gasps “I let you out first!” 

“See, he doesn’t know how to answer questions.” Shouta pouts.

“You might be onto something actually…” a matching pout now growing on the prince’s face.

[rewritingcanon]

Do you have any thoughts on scorbus kids king (beyond Albus insisting that they’re all named after stars and constellations and the likes) because in the same way that they’d get married at like 18-19 a la ‘traditional’ wizards i think they’d be the couple to turn up to christmas one year with a baby without telling anyone (nobody knows how they got the baby and theyre not saying shit) and boom. The first wotter-malfoy grandchild

oooooh! hmm! i actually go back and forth on scorbus children a lot. like i dont have set ocs or anything for them. i can see them with or without kids. i can see them with many or just one. i can see them as boy dads and girl dads. i can see them as all adopted or as donor-conceived. likeeeee i can see everything tbh. but i can tell you what i’m usually set towards:

i reckon one of their babies (i’m thinking the second one if they ever get so far) is sooooo weasley-coded. they don’t act like scorpius or albus but as their fucking grandma ginny. like they may not have the token red hair at all but they certainly act like one. and they’re a stereotypical gryffindor. (first gryffindor malfoy perchance)

i’m also thinking they need to have a diva daughter. like a mini narcissa/lucius just minus the moral abhorrence (they may or may not have a consumerism problem though)

one of the babies has to have the blond malfoy hair. preferably the eldest. idc if that makes me a stickler for tradition.

also i think they would pull the “my grandad is harry potter” “did you know i’m the chosen one’s grandkid?” “oh yeah just going to my pop’s place tonight… did i mention he’s harry potter?” ALL THE TIME 💀 like they would nottttt understand albus’ angst about it (at first) because they won’t experience the same type of pressure as being harry potter’s child.

i think it would be sooo funny if they had kids who are really popular in school and are super charming and good-looking and athletic and just very cool and easily liked. and meanwhile they’re dads are the biggest fucking socially inept losers.

if i was nice i’d give scorpius a bookworm kid. but i don’t think that would happen 😭 he’s fr cursed to be the only nerd there.

now here are some parent!scorbus hcs:

the whole misunderstanding angst between them is scorpius wants to rant to his child about the ottoman empire’s invention of major medical instruments and the child just wants to go play footy with da boys 💔

you best believe albus suffers the potter curse of just never understanding his child 😭 he would totally argue with them all the time. not to the point where they run away though.

i think albus would feel the desire to be a father more than scorpius would initially, but albus would be the strict parent. probably because he did shit like running away and deleting his family from the timeline so he doesn’t want that to happen again yk. how can you blame him

scorpius is the dad that spoils his kids rotten. like he’s NEVER mad. he’s always telling them how proud he is of them and how lovely and cool they are and he’s just constantly inflating their heads to the sizes of large balloons. he’s the dad they go to when they want to ask for something because he’ll normally give it to them. he’d rather they be brats then be unconfident and hate themselves.

also scorpius would get crazy separation anxiety. like it doesnt matter if his kid is 25 that’s his baby and they need to be in arms reach at all times

albus can be the type to freak out at his kids ngl 😭 tbf i dont think he’d do it without reason but he will definitely make them cryyyy and run to their rooms. yk when one of ur parents yells at you when ur a kid and u cry angry tears and can’t verbalise your feelings because you’re tiny and dont know the right words yet. and then you look to your other parent for help and they’re just standing at the side like “🧍‍♂️” yeah the one just standing there is scorpius 💀 no way he’s risking getting clocked too.

scorpius might not voice it in the moment but he’s very good at damage control and managing his family who probably runs quite high on emotions. also he’ll sneak his kids sweets to cheer them up even if they deserved to get yelled at lol

albus is the dad that cleans and washes and styles his daughters’ hair 😭 and he will do it aggressively too like he ties the cleanest but tightest braids and plaits and ponytails you best believe. also he doesn’t play around when his kids come home from primary school with a head lice notification slip. best believe he’s going to scrape through everything.

the kids definitely think scorbus are way too lovey-dovey with each other. cringiest parents ever.

albus is definitely the “how dare you talk to your father like that” kind of guy about scorpius.

albus would pack the most delectable lunch boxes ever and scorpius would write the sweetest daily notes for their kids and put them in the lunchboxes to cheer them

they do not play about bullying whatsoever. someone is getting right hooked if anyone dares with their kid. not hexed, right hooked

albus sobbed when he had to say goodbye to his first child for hogwarts. like he ugly cried right in the middle of the platform. almost collapsed.

scorpius is bombarding their kid with letters. like he’s writing them four times a day to ask how things are and how theyre finding classes and if their classmates are good to them?? and has to be asked to stop 😭

yk how harry was gassing tf out of hogwarts to albus only for it to be shit? just know albus is telling the biggest horror stories about the school to their kid only for them to go there and for it to be fine. this is the visual vibe btw:

albus’ favourite kid is definitely the one who is most like scorpius in some way. but he will deny it

scorpius still tucks them in every night no matter if they’re adults

albus is the type to bitch out alllll of his kids’ friends. “i don’t like [insert friend]” “why” “they seem very…. fake.” “dad you literally have zero friends besides papa why are you speaking rn”

scorpius loves hosting his kids’ birthday parties (bonus if he can make it extravagant) and albus hates it (he dislikes every other child except his own)

albus the type of dad to get the malfoy white streak and a beer belly and blame it on the stress of being a father (he loves his kid(s) heaps, just to be clear).

scorpius would tell his kids when they fell down and scraped themselves that his kiss could make it better. and when he kissed their bruise or cut he’d do a tiny healing spell and fix it so for yearssss these scorbus kids thought their dad was had super magical kisses (yk damn well albus took advantage of that excuse 😭)

if they adopted a kid of another race to them, scorpius is going leaps and bounds to understand his baby’s culture and raise him accordingly so they don’t feel too disconnected (albus will do so too but scorpius would be such an expert at it because he’s a research freak).

i think scorbus would generally follow traditional wizard norms but their kids wouldn’t. the kids are living in the house until they are 35 or something. reason is because their standard of living at home is amazing. albus cooks the best food. they get spoilt rotten by scorpius. they have the combined fortune of two of the richest wizard families… yeah life is good

i shall stop it there but lmk if you want me to yap more because i havent even started on aunt lily and uncle james or their crazy grandparents 😭

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

Caught In The Act Part 3

A/N: i was not going to write another part but the smut needed to be brought to life.

It was early in the night still as Gale stared down at your breathless visage, loving how undone you had become just by his hands and tongue alone. Your chest moved rapidly as you sought to catch your breath, your body still riding the high of the orgasm that was brought forth by Gale’s deft fingers and practised tongue. Your eyes closed enjoying this moment, thankful for his feather bedroll that you were laid upon, it only added to your bliss.

It was not long until you felt Gale’s soft hands upon your body, feeling the electricity from his fingers against your skin. His hands started at your waist and slowly snaked up towards your breast, massaging the soft and fleshy skin. You felt his thumb move roughly over one of your nipples causing you to moan and arch your body into his grasp. Gale had already brought you immense pleasure, but you were ready for him again, this time wanting to please him as much as you can. Lips brushed across your skin in a sloppy fashion, feeling his kisses from your waist up to your neck, Gale wanted to devour your entire body if only you would let him. His teeth grazed across the skin of your neck, kissing and biting the marks he had just left on your pretty skin, whispering sweet praises to you as he worshiped you.

A small moan escaped your lips as you gripped his hair pulling it softly, you could feel a soft growl escape his lips and vibrate against your neck, your hand pulling his hair gently so you could look at him. His eyes were black with lust, you could still see the remnants of your pleasure glistening on his beard, never had you thought a man looked so perfect until now. Pulling his hair gently you lifted him away from your neck so you could kiss him, the kiss was rough and filled with desperation, you could feel him grinning against your lips as you moaned through the kiss, this was all the proof he needed that you wanted this as much as he craved you.

Gale’s skilled fingers found your core as you lost each other in the kiss, his usually rough hands were gentle as he thumbed your clit, causing you to shudder beneath him. Your soft gasp only spurred him on further, you arched your back into his body practically begging for him which he took great delight in. “Gale…. Please…” your voice came out as a desperate whisper, your eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head as you begged for him.

“Now, now Tav, use your words, I’m a wizard not a mind reader. Tell me, What do you want my love” You could almost feel the smirk as he spoke, he was teasing you and he loved it, his fingers causing you to think of nothing but him. A desperate groan escaped your lips, you wanted him, carnally and you wanted him now.

“Fuck, Gale… I want you… Please… Please.” Your voice was desperate, begging for him, it made Gale bite his lip, he was enjoying teasing you but seeing you beg before him was heavenly. Gale could have cum then and there at hearing your pleas, it was like music to his ears and he was more than happy to oblige your wants.

Gales hands stopped touching you, much to your dismay, you were desperate for relief now, instead you found his fingers in your mouth, silencing you. “I can make you feel good sweetpea, if you behave.” A cocky grin adorned his face, you had no idea where this version of Gale came from, but you would not complain about it. His fingers in your mouth caused you to moan softly, vibrating against his hand Gale shuddered. He was ready for you, his length was pressed against your inner thigh and you were desperate to feel it in all its glory.

You did not have the time to brace yourself as you felt his thick length press inside of you, a breathy moan escaped Gale’s mouth as he felt you stretch around him, you felt better than he had imagined, and he did imagine it many a night. His pace was slow and gentle, a fact you were grateful for, you wanted to enjoy this moment for as long as you could, savouring the feeling of him inside of you.

You began to feel Gale tense and your own pleasure build again. Looking up at him, his long hair sticking to his forehead with sweat did something to you, you would do anything to see that image over and over again in your mind. Your hands roamed Gale’s body as he took you with reverence, the man was still more concerned about your pleasure rather than his own. Your body felt weak against him, it was like he knew exactly where to touch and how hard to thrust, his hands manhandling your breasts as he pounded into you. Your moans were becoming more frequent and desperate, you only hoped that your camp mates did not hear at this point.

Your body trembled and your walls pulsed around him, it was not long until Gale finished inside of you with a beautiful groan that you would commit to memory. He slumped against your body, absolutely spent. Your hands stroked his hair and back affectionately, loving the feeling of his skin against yours. This was hopefully the first night of many between you two, you cannot imagine this being a one time thing.

Gale slumps against your body and peppers kisses against your neck “I’m just only getting started, Tav” You groan softly and feel his lips against your skin, you would have him again and again if he offered.